Yes, Professor
by NanaMun
Summary: Edward Cullen is an English professor with a list of unsuccessful blind dates and an aversion to public speaking. His well, orderly life is thrown through a spin, when a student makes a sexual advance.


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**Author's Notes: **Finally, the story I've had opened and unfinished for over a year has been completed thanks to the wonderful team of **Twilight: The Big Bang** and my Beta for this one-shot, **Tori. **Thanks so much you guys, it was a lot of fun and an interesting experience trying to make the longest one-shot EVER. I found out I'm a complete wordy whore and writing a Professor Edward proved to be infuriatingly awesome. The original post of my story is on the Twilight: The Big Bang LJ. Please, please check out the link in my profile and go on down and visit some of the participants in the challenge. A lot of hard work and time went into writing their one-shots and they deserve some love-filled comments.

**Summary: **Edward Cullen is an English professor with a list of unsuccessful blind dates and an aversion to public speaking. His well, orderly life is thrown through a spin, when an intelligent, yet difficult student makes a sexual advance in exchange for a better grade. Unbeknownst to Edward, a relationship develops between the two, before emotions become entangled with morals. Edward has to make the decision of playing it safe as he always had or finally give in to a different passion he's never experienced.

Characters are not own by me, but my perversion is!

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**Yes, Professor**

I wouldn't say she wasn't perfect. She was - for a romanticist.

She ordered pasta, which wasn't the most common thing girls ordered on dates. And she drank coke instead of wine, even though she picked the restaurant for its 'rich, diverse wine cellar'. Something told me my sister put her up to it.

"Refined." I commented. She lifted tailored eyebrows. She had pretty chocolate eyes, something I'm sure a man would drown in, "The soda." I added. She laughed, nearly choking on the pasta. I really thought she would order a salad. I must say she was nothing close to the other girls Alice had set me up with. I liked her more than I thought, but why wasn't I interested?

"Sorry," She laughed, covering her mouth politely, "I'll be honest... I had no idea what the hell this place was. Alice had a list of restaurants and I blindly picked this one. I thought you were the wine type." She said, humor light in her voice.

"When the moment calls for it." I didn't expect her to blush from the words, "Did I do something?"

She chewed her pasta for a second to keep from choking on it again, "The way you speak," She motioned with her hands as if to emphasize her point, "I swear, I-" She mumbled, her cheeks became redder.

"I apologize, Bella," I couldn't help feeling the right side of my lip lift in amusement, "I'm an English professor. Sometimes I forget to speak like-"

"It's the 21st century," she sipped from the thin black straw of her glass, "It makes you more...appealing."

"I appreciate the compliment, Bella." She hid her cheek with a hand, smiling to herself. She was an adorable creature. It was a shame that I adored her as I adored my own sister. Our conversation continued as it started the moment she introduced herself. We connected first in an educative capacity. She was a drama teacher that taught at a theatre school in Seattle.

I was happy that most of the dinner was spent with her conversing. I wasn't much of a talkative person. That was one expression I could never master. I watched as Bella gushed and boasted about her talented students and the work they had done so far. Currently, they were working on Romeo and Juliet, her favorite Shakespeare play.

"I wouldn't expect that from you." I said honestly.

"Why?"

"It's a typical choice," I stated, but had to reiterate. I didn't want her to take offense, "and you're an atypical girl."

"Well," She said softly, "I'm a girl and all girls want that love." I didn't argue, but she could see I disagreed. I believed in love, but the love that she was defining was fickle. Nothing stable couldn't come from boisterous passion.

"What is your favorite Shakespeare play?" She looked at me intently, almost as if the answer would satisfy another question for her.

Without hesitation, I uttered, "Othello." She blinked at me. Then blinked again.

"Atypical." She whispered.

I felt my eyebrows raise in query, "What would you expect to be typical of me?"

"Hamlet." She said, keeping her eyes downcast on her plate as she picked at the last of her food, "Macbeth second. Maybe surprise me with an As You Like It. I never would have assumed..."

"What do you think that says about me, Bella?" Her eyes lifted and kept focus with mine for a second, before she spoke again.

"I'd say you're a lot darker than I would have presumed," She said with a soft sniff, "And I'd say you were ridiculously lonely."

I smiled, only because she was right and I didn't expect it, "It's relative."

She was silent for a second. I took that time to gather my thoughts. This really was turning out to be an interesting date, "Edward." She said calmly.

"Yes, Bella."

She took a deep breath, "Alice suggested I go on a date with you. She suggested I wear this stupid dress and pick this restaurant. She told me to eat a salad and drink wine, but I'm not a fucking French rabbit," She growled, causing me to chuckle in shock, "and I can tell you now that although I'm not the lady she wants me to present myself as, I'm also not your type. And those ladies aren't your type either."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes!" She answered with exasperation, "I love your sister and her efforts, but she doesn't know your type. I think she misreads what you want just because you're silent and teach English classes. She expects you to be romantic and I don't know, picket-white-fence-ish?" Her lips turned down in a slight sag and her hands flopped on the table. It was as if she was admitting defeat. This behavior of hers was surprising and yet expected, "Why do you put up with it? It must be torture?"

"I put up with it because it keeps her happy." And that was the only reason.

"Well, it must make you miserable."

I felt my shoulders rise up and fall with the smallest of efforts, "You learn with every experience." I answered. The black of her hair made me think of my sister and the softness of her eyes reminded me of a kind, understanding mother I had back at home, "This date was by far the best I've had though." I added honestly. Even through the slight distress, I could see the smile spreading on her lips.

**.**

**.**

I chose to keep the doors closed, only for the comfort of the students. I didn't mind the Winter air - it was a comfort to _me_. Unfortunately, I did mind the late students and early leavers. It was less about disrespect and more about losing my train of thought. I really didn't enjoy speaking.

I stood in front of my evening Eng 344 class, staring at 60 pairs of weary eyes. I knew the looks. It was the end of the semester and everyone was counting the days. It was a fairly small lecture class, so I didn't understand the reserve for such a wide lecture hall seating 120 odd bodies, but considering that this was one of the last classes on campus, it really didn't matter. I was already five minutes into going over the previous night's reading when I heard the entrance to my right open. Out of all the doors in the lecture hall, it was that particular door that grated me the most and it was only this young man that used it; the door leading to one of the school's parking lots. Just like every other day, he hurriedly crossed my path and jogged up the steps to the last row of seats only to place himself securely behind one before bowing his head to sleep.

He was a peculiar student. For the three hours I had him every week for an entire semester, he showed the same indifference to the class. But that was not what held my attention about him. It was the spur of the moment cases when his head would pop up as if something caught his attention and soon his hand would shoot up and I'd hear some of the best literary interpretations I have ever heard, even amongst my colleagues. It was when he was done, he'd let a satisfied smirk slip on his face and soon he was back to his original position.

He was peculiar.

And on this day he did the exact same thing.

I paused briefly, catching my thoughts and continued on with the lecture. Mid-way through the timed session I handed back the end of semester papers. It was perhaps the most important grade other than their final which the University had scheduled for the week after. I saw eyes light up at the stack of graded papers, and I saw some wince in momentary regret of last minute 'BSing' as they called it, but as usual I did not see his eyes.

"I saw a lot of compelling writing for some and half-attempted works for others." I said to my students, noting how some kept from staring at their grades and merely stuffed them in their binders or bags, "But, nevertheless, nothing was completely shameful, although it is always helpful to pull out some key matters in order for you to do well on your final." That word had his head up rather quickly. I smiled, happy I had his attention even for the moment.

The time passed rather smoothly. I answered some questions and handed out the study guide for the final. It was a tough semester for them and I figured they deserved to not walk in blindly.

The class cleared out, students shuffled pass, a few young women grinned sheepishly at me, some stopping to exchange a few words before leaving. I sighed, happy the day was over. With fluid habit, I was packing my messenger bag, going over the words I stated in class, hoping I didn't miss anything. I was surprised to notice there was still someone in the room with me. It was him.

He stood about 4 inches taller than I, toned russet skin and short hair. He looked as tired as he did everyday in class, this time a paper in his hand. He stood close to me, eyebrows knitted in worry.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Jacob?" I had never said his name before and something about that moment made me feel as if a milestone had been crossed.

"I'd like to know how I got a D on the paper." His voice came out grittier than I remembered. I took it for anger immediately.

I crossed my arms over my chest, eyeing him as I eyed all the students that demanded answers for something that was clearly obvious, "Well, Jacob, you handed in your paper a day passed the deadline, you didn't follow the requirements of typed and spaced and it was a page shorter than the minimum."

He had beautiful brown eyes, darker than Bella's and they glared, "You know the paper was good." He said confidently.

I sighed. This is what made him different from those that slacked. He was an intelligent kid and a bit of me wished he would participate more. I tried not to let that cloud my judgment on the paper, "It was remarkable. Some of the best writing I have seen in years, but Jacob, a genius mind is not of worth if it isn't a disciplined one."

He nodded his head curtly, "There were things I had to get done and I had no-" He cut himself short, shaking his head before laughing humorlessly, "Like you care. I'm just another one of those fucked up students, right? I can't take anything you throw at me."

I eyed him curiously. He had such a handsome, young face but it was contorted to a darkened expression, "I never said that, Jacob." I wanted him to believe me.

For a second, his eyes remained hard and distant and just like a wave resetting the footprints on sand, he was another boy. He had a coy smile on his lips, "Is there anything I can do to fix this problem?" His whole demeanor changed. He leaned his weight on one leg, placing a hand on the desk I was leaning against, "I'm sure we can work something out. Get this paper to a C, perhaps?

I felt a rush from his body being so close. I could feel his heat and it was suffocating, "We can look over your paper when you come in during my office hours." I cracked. I never re-graded papers and I rarely provided extra credit. I didn't know what I was saying, but I knew what his potential was and I didn't want to squander it on a grade, but I needed him to earn it.

**.**

**.**

I recalled the date with Bella with fondness. It had been a week since I had seen her and interestingly enough, we kept in touch. She was one of Alice's many friends, that I usually lost contact with after the first date. There was always someone Alice had a _feeling_ about, always someone she was meeting. She was a busy girl and was a popular one as well. She juggled three jobs, catering to the costumes of the University I was employed by currently and Bella's as well. Her last job was that of a traveling fashion consultant the other 6 months out of the year when there were no Plays and shows. Because of Alice, I dated models, amateur actresses, socialites, directors, fashion victims and even a fashionista. Alice really did mean well, but she clearly didn't see the pattern. And out of the 2 dozen women I had dated over the last 6 or so years, only Bella was the one that I willingly planned on calling after a date. The down side wasn't only that I wasn't interested. I was never interested.

It was a mild day in the office. I kept to just adjusting grades and looking over some papers from my lower division course in the morning. I wasn't expecting anyone besides Jacob and he was running later than I expected. My hours were only 7:30-10:30 on Fridays and it was already 10:18. I felt disappointed. For someone who was completely bothered by his paper results, he didn't seem anxious enough to have it handled.

I checked my wristwatch again, feeling overwhelmed with discontent. I couldn't expect all my students to learn life sessions by mere advice. That was the part about growing up. I tucked my lap top in its slip, placing it gingerly in my bag. I checked my wristwatch again and felt the tingle of annoyance when it said 10:31. I stood to leave, turning only to make sure I had everything with me. When I turned back, he was standing in the doorway, face red, hair array.

"Was there something keeping you?" I asked, noticing how his chest rose and fell in an unnatural pace.

He nodded.

"Perhaps you need to be more aware of your schedule." I sighed, placing my bag on my desk, "Did you bring your paper?" He shook his head. A part of me wanted to scold him, but I knew it wasn't my place, "Jacob."

He closed my office door behind him. I frowned, hearing a loud click - he locked the door, "A 'B' is all I ask for." He said softly.

I felt my body steel. Judging by the way he cornered me, It felt like a threat.

"Jacob, I already have gone out of my way to accommodate something you had control of." I said levelly, "It's an unfair feat to ask of more."

"I'll make up for it." He said huskily, taking small steps toward me. He was bigger than me, more built than I was, so I knew the probability of victory in a fight was slim. I was never a fighter. He read the look on my face and smirked in a way I never expected before I felt the palm of his hands on my chest, pressure on me and I fell back into my office chair.

"Jacob-" I tried to reason. I knew now that physical harm wasn't his intention, but I was still clueless yet to what he had planned.

"Professor Cullen," He said softly, like a lover would say, "Please forgive me. I'm not as good of a student as I want to be."

"It's okay, Jacob." My voice shook, but not of fear. I wasn't quite sure why. He leaned over, gripping the armrests next to me, hovering.

"I don't like disappointing." His voice dropped an octave. I licked my lips nervously, not sure what to say. I knew he was a decent student, maybe not attentive, but there was never any sign of-

And this seemed so out of character. He was distant one minute and an aggressive person the next?

"Jacob, please." I wasn't sure what I was pleading for. He was so damn close.

He knelt in front of me and with such experienced grace, he was cupping my crotch in his hand. I hissed, placing my hand over his and trying my best to distance myself, "Jacob, this is not how I operate." I tried to sound authoritative, but it seemed to have fallen on deaf ears.

He lifted his head, pressing his cheek against my own, before whispering in my ear, "Let me make you feel good, Professor."

"This is not what I want."

"Don't you?" I felt the tug on my slacks, "What man doesn't want an orgasm?"

"You are a student." I said.

"And it doesn't bother you that I'm a man or that I may not be your type?" He hummed in thought to himself, "It appears that you _do_ want me, Professor."

I didn't know where my thoughts ended or where they began. He wasn't correct in his analysis. This wasn't right. I had to stop it, "This can get you kicked out. You can lose your applicancy here. Don't."

"A failing grade can get me to lose my applicancy." He answered, "But if I'm good, Professor, if I suck you off like a good boy-"

Something in me snapped, "No!" I was able to push him away from my ear, "I will not allow you to sell yourself like that." For a moment he stared at me, eyes softening. He hesitated then and I thought I got through, but just as quick as it came, it was gone.

"This is all I'm worth." He said, eyes sure of his words. I stared in shock, not able to comprehend his words. He was smart, but so distant.

I scared myself, cursed myself, damned myself when I moaned out when his full lips kissed my arousal through my boxers. I felt my member twitch to life, despite my unwillingness. He pawed at the fabric, a hasty pant warming my leg. His breath was so warm. Pulling the elastic down, my arousal met cool air before being engulfed in warm, wetness.

"No," I whined out, grabbing the short locks of his hair and tugging. He moaned around me, arousing my member more, letting it grow in his warmness before he suckled.

It felt so good. A part of me felt ashamed that I let it go this far. He was a young boy, he couldn't have been more than a Sophomore. It didn't matter that he was legally an adult, this was against everything that I ever imagined my next sexual encounter would be. It had been years, more than any man would have been brave enough to admit. But I wasn't desperate and I didn't ask for this.

It felt good, his warmth felt good, his rich hair raked by my fingers felt good, but this had to be the celibacy talking. I wanted to moan his name. I wanted him to know he was special, but not this way. I heaved a breath and pulled my torso back before tucking a hand under his chin, cupping and pulling it away from my erection. He stared at me now with wounded eyes, eyes I wanted to heal.

"You're worth more than this." I told him. Every part of me wanted him to know I meant it, "You don't need to do this, Jacob. I can help you. Let me help you."

He stared up at me, bewildered. His eyes shone and he leaned in again, this time surprising me with a firm kiss. I enjoyed this more. The warmth, the appreciation. He pulled away and kept his eyes on my own, "Yes professor." He whispered so softly, I was almost sure this was after the throes of passion. Not breaking eye contact, he gingerly placed me back in my slacks, doing it up as it was, but with more effort considering the tightness. I did my best not to moan or even think about how much I enjoyed his touch. When he was finished, he stood to his feet, eyes still on mine and with one turn, he was gone.

**.**

**.**

My job flashed before my eyes.

I was hunched over the bowl, heaving. My stomach tightened, eager to rid everything out of it. He had been on my mind the entire evening and it drove me to madness. I did not understand. How was he of significance now when he was never before?

I chuckled through the strained tears. Isn't that how it always was? Someone was of the world then they became _your_ world? I caught myself. I was thinking ahead like that again. What was wrong with me? I understood he was one of the most interesting students I ever had. I even recalled a few designated conversations about his short outbursts over dinner with a date or Alice. The few moments I got a spurt of joy whenever he spoke. Those moments I was proud to see a student engaging.

Now, I wasn't so sure.

I felt angry with myself. This was something I never even feared would occur. I drew the line, always did. In the two years I taught, there were many _opportunities_ to make a mess and blur the lines. Many young women made it obvious that they were interested and yet there was no temptation, none whatsoever. And he makes the move and woos me.

I stood on shaky legs and walked myself over to the bathroom sink to rinse myself off. I was scared sick of the consequences, of losing myself. I hadn't felt too _bothered_ by the wrong person before. When I looked at Jacob, I saw someone who was broken and gifted.

_"This is all I'm worth."_

Why would he think that? And why did that bother me so much? Was I merely confusing concern for a gifted student with something else, something worse?

My cell phone rang and yet I stumbled my way to my bedroom, kicking the door open with the front of my toes, not paying much attention to my direction.

I collapsed unevenly on the bed, nausea finally dying down in my stomach.

I thought of Bella, Shakespeare and I thought of him.

**.**

**.**

"Edward!" I heard the shrill scream and felt my body shaking, "Oh my God, what happened?" I felt myself being turned over on my back. I moaned, blinking up at my ceiling fan.

"Alice?" My throat was raw and tasted like bile.

"Are you sick?" She stammered, "Oh no, did you catch the flu?" I felt cool hands on my forehead.

" M' fine." was about as much as my body was willing to let me say.

"No, you are not." Her voice was thick with maternal authority, "There is vomit all over your bathroom and your papers in the living room are all over the floor." I groaned, thinking back to the quick run I made for the bathroom, knocking down all the graded work in the process.

"No flu." I argued, but my throat tightened. I coughed, regretting ever attempting to communicate.

" 'No flu', my ass." I could hear the scowl in her tone. She shuffled away, leaving me to myself. And like that she was back, shaking me awake. I hadn't realized I went out again.

"It must be so bad." She said. I opened my eyes, blinking repeatedly before sitting up to see her for the first time in days.

"It's not the flu, Alli." I groaned, but she ignored me like usual, guiding me back against a pillow before handing me an oversized tea-cup filled with soup.

"It'll help the muscles in your throat." She advised, "I'll clean your bathroom."

"I'm fine." I argued, but she was already on her feet.

"Eat." She ordered and her small form was disappearing out my room.

With each sip, I was one step closer to easing an aching stomach and soothing my throat. I finished and wanted to kick myself for personally thanking Alice to use the spare key she demanded I give her to intrude on my privacy. She was already back in my room, smelling like Pinesol, but smiling as if she just handled the dishes not my digested meals of the previous day.

"Alice," I felt dirty and weak, knowing I couldn't really tell her what was on my mind. She read my expression with care and let out a small exhale through her nose.

"It isn't the flu then." She stated, rather than asked. I didn't answer, so she dug farther, "I've only seen that look on your face once, Edward and that was when you spent days avoiding visiting me in the hospital when I was sick." I winced, bringing up the memory of my 14 year old sister bed ridden from pneumonia. It took 5 days for me to give in and see her and when I did, the guilt ate me up alive.

"I felt responsible." I said out loud, meaning to keep that to myself.

"So did everyone." She shrugged, "Seattle is rainy, I was bound to be caught up in the rain for a handful of hours." She examined my face and again, "Edward, do you feel responsible about something now, something you had no control over?"

"Don't push, Alice." I said icily, hoping that would keep her at bay until I was ready. She never gave up, so all that was on my side was stalling.

"Why not?" She looked angrier than I would have imagined at such a comment, "I found you on the bed, clothes and shoes still on and a mess in your bathroom. It looked like you barely made it home okay." She was too damn insightful. A lot of that came from being close with me in our teen years, but the other half came from her being nosy and self-entitled. It was irritating to say the least.

"I am an adult."

"That I just had to fix soup for." She argued.

I felt a twinge of hostility light in me, "I didn't ask for it!" My voice rose, "And I'm not asking for you to be here. Stop infiltrating my life, let me be, Alice!" She winced, but didn't move.

Guilt struck me once again, seeing her eyes glass and her lip tremble, "Edward, what is going on?" She was too concerned for her own good.

**.**

**.**

On Saturday morning, it occurred to me that in order for me to help Jacob, I would need to contact him. With the college catching up to technology, I had complete 24 hour communication with each of my students. By lunch I was at my computer, pulling up the University's site and logged into my account and class. I hesitated over the name Black, Jacob, right between Beck, Andrea and Blossom, Carl. After considering my place and my need to prove I knew control, I clicked his name and wrote out my message

_Regarding your paper,_

_ I would prefer if we met in a public area on campus. Bring your paper this time and I shall bring a personal computer to accommodate you. I prefer the coffee cafe in front of the Union Building. Monday afternoon is preferable. Let me know if that works for your schedule._

I signed my name and looked over the small message, making sure it was impersonal before sending. With a sip of my coffee, I signed off and continued on with my day, but with him on my mind. I kept busy with grading papers for my Wednesday evening classes and by 4 o' Clock with a sigh, I dug through my messenger bag for my cell phone. I couldn't go a day without un-wrinkling any issues I had with my sister. Alice left the night before in near sobs, but willingly, which was rare. I couldn't be honest with her. It was hard. What was I to say? I had felt aroused by another person for the first time in 5 years? And that it was a male student? I was never a man of relationships and unfortunately never experienced much of a loving relationship with women, but I had never considered attraction to men. If Alice knew this, I wasn't sure she'd be able to stomach it.

Not even I could.

She answered after the first ring, her voice shrill with concern, "Edward? Is everything okay?"

I exhaled, pleased that she wasn't angry, just overly concerned for my well-being as usual, "I'm fine, Alice." I did well, keeping my voice calm, "I just wanted to call to apologize."

There was brief silence on the other line. I could almost read her thoughts, but it was really a habit she developed, "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

I shuffled a few papers aside, stacking them on my coffee table, biding my time for an answer. In the end, I had to remain comfortable. She'd know what was troubling me in time.

Alice," I started, "I don't think I'm ready to talk about it yet. _I'm _not comfortable with it yet."

"Okay." I could hear the agitation in the tone. She wasn't going to get her way today.

We ended the call on a better footing, but not as I wanted it. Alice was never comfortable unless she knew everything that troubled me.

But it wasn't until that moment, I realized that there was always something the matter - and perhaps she always knew. A brief flashback of the women I dated flooded my mind. They were never women that _fit _my personality or interests. They weren't handpicked, but frantically thrown in a cart of promise and checked-out for a date.

To take my mind off of the night before, I sat back in front of my computer and signed on directly to my e-mail to check for any messages from confused or misguided students. I was a bit unnerved to in fact see a message directly from Jacob Black forwarded from the campus inbox. My hands shook over my mouse and I felt an odd tingle in the pits of my stomach, yet the urge to open it took over and with a hasty click, a window unraveled. My eyes traveled to the typed message under the date and time.

_If Monday works for you, it works for me. At Noon. I'll be waiting. Be prompt for our first date, Professor Cullen._

I closed the message and pushed away from my desk, expecting my stomach to tighten and heave as it did the night before. I felt relatively fine except for the occasional tingle in my spine. He thought it was a date, or perhaps he was only teasing me. I knew my intentions were to be in a place other than my office, the very spot he jolted my mind awake out of the yearn-less haze it had been in. I couldn't go back there with him again. I was fearful as to what else could happen. In company, we were fine. As long as it was on campus. This date he spoke of, was for his education and that was it.

I had to tell myself that.

**.**

**.**

Like the Sunday evenings before, I found myself in the driveway of a Colonial home. My last nights were rougher than my days, but I had to comprise a mask in order to hide that side of me from my dinner company.

My mother was the first to greet me at the door. I could already smell the stew simmering in the kitchen and that briefly eradicated my unease.

"Honey, you're right on time," I was engulfed in a hug, before being allowed in to the residence. My timing - I assumed - had much to do with my father's first rumblings of work, something my mother, with all her love and patience often got a bit weary of, especially since she knew just as well as I that my father would bring up the offer he had conjured weeks before.

"Son," My father stepped from his office, trailed behind by my sister, her eyes twinkling with amusement, before she turned to meet my own. A knowing frown marred her features, but she kept silent.

"Hey, dad," My voice wavered under its own accord and I did my best to dismiss it. From the corner of my eye, I caught the brief glance exchange between my sister and my mother. I had an odd feeling I was a topic of conversation before my arrival.

My mother ushered us to the dining room. The utensils were set up - work done by Alice.

"How has your weekend been so far?" My sister at her usual corner of the table, eyes hard and voice dripping with hostility.

"Fine," I answered simply. I was aware that she wasn't handling my restraint on information and it was killing her mood.

My father, catching our heated exchange, sat between us at the end of the table, "Alice, it's okay if your brother has privacy." He chuckled. He must of been the only one kept out of the loop so far. I silently thanked Alice for that. Hearing about his only son's less than acceptable health would have had him in a loop.

"I know he does," Alice tugged a stray strand of raven hair behind her ears, looking briefly at her plate. As ever, she was the scolded child, "It's just..." her voice trailed off.

"You know, you only ever get like this when it comes to his romantic life," There was a brief pause as he lifted an eyebrow, "Perhaps Edward found a lucky girl without your assistance?" my heart jumped in my chest.

Ridiculous.

Yet I couldn't help the sweat forming at my brow. It was a perfect assumption on my father's part, but the twisted fact of it all was my romantic life currently consisted of a nonsexual attraction to my last date and a brief unfinished blowjob by a student. My stomach contracted - I suddenly lost interest in my meal.

"Not likely," Alice grumbled, but kept the rest of her thoughts to herself. She knew as well as I that nothing came from a night of reckless vomiting and losing consciousness.

My mom appeared with the pot, both my father and I jerked out of our seats to help, but she shook off our offers, "Carlisle, I can handle myself." She eyed my father with a look that had him sitting down quite quickly.

With all the food assembled, the drinks in glasses, we began our meal, or more accurately, my family did.

I made sure to volunteer in conversation, but kept from getting too personal on my part. But once again, attention was drawn to me when my father spoke up.

"Edward," He started, "Have you thought about it yet?" A part of me gave a huff of relief.

"I still am." I replied.

As usual, he tried to sway my thoughts in his favor, "Aro knows a lot of publishing companies. He's very well connected. I'm telling you son, you have it and if you redirected your energy-"

"I know." My fork clinked on the plate as I reached for my glass, "I've barely started teaching. It's the only steady income I have." A week before, I would have been agitated, even a bit defensive about my decision. My father, as supportive as he was, still felt the career path I chose was a cowardly one. The words were never said, but actions do speak louder. Currently, with my previous error of action on my plate, this was a welcome distraction, even a little normal. As long as my family were focused on all but my romantic life.

"You know that we could support - "

"Not an option." I argued, "I'm still thinking."

With a heavy sigh, my dad stopped. The topic was dropped quicker than I anticipated.

Dinner ended with no more words. In a silent gesture, Alice and I helped with the empty plates and glasses. In the kitchen, mom disappeared behind the fridge door, before pulling out a flat box.

"I was going to make some pie for dessert, but your father came home with this." She lifted the box at elbow level before walking over to the kitchen island, "Do you think you two can cut this without a dispute. I'm going to go in the cellar to get the wine." Alice and I nodded in unison. She disappeared behind the ivory door at the end of the kitchen, leaving me and my sister alone.

Ignoring her heavy glare, I walked over to the box, untucking the flap to reveal the round strawberry cheesecake inside. Even with the sick churns in my stomach, it looked delicious.

"Alice, can you pass me the pie knife?" I tossed over my shoulder, avoiding eye contact. She huffed, digging through one of the counter drawers before thrusting the knife in front of me.

"So you're still not going to explain what happened Friday?" She pressed.

I took my time, taking the clear, glass plates my mom had piled in the middle of the kitchen island. I sliced the cheesecake with the precision and a steady hand of my father getting three perfect triangles, "You want the first slice?" I asked.

"Edward!" She snapped, stomping her foot in the process, "I need to know _now_. What happened?" She wrapped a hand around my wrist, pulling me away from the cake.

"I don't want to go over this now - or at all." I made myself clear, but my sister was the type to close a conversation on her own time.

"Edward," She tried again, with a gentler tone, "Please just tell me. I know how you are. I've rarely ever seen you so unraveled. Was it Bella? Did something happen?" I winced. Somehow she was in the right train of thinking.

"Bella and I are fine. She is a pleasant person to talk to." I confessed. The last thing I wanted was for Alice to bring anything up to a new, trusted friend.

There was a look of hope in my sister's jade eyes as she processed what I just said, "So...is that what it is? You have feelings for her and it's eating at you?" I rolled my eyes at the question and despite the storm in my mind, I couldn't help but smile. I just didn't understand how close Alice came to knowing what was going on with me, before narrowly missing it entirely. But to be honest with myself, I knew a lot of it had to do with me not opening up to her at all.

"We're friends." I noted the wrinkle between Alice's brow, before she tried again.

"Okay. Is it someone else?"

I tried to end the conversation, "Alice-"

"It's someone else, isn't it?" Her voice rose with confidence.

"I didn't say-"

"Where did you meet her?" She pushed, already clutching onto me for information. I groaned, "It's not like you go anywhere. Unless it was at the university..."

"Alice, please-"

"And why would it bother you so much if..." And just then, her eyes glazed over and she gasped, "It was a student, wasn't it?" The tips of her fingers grazed her lips as she waited for an answer.

My stomach contracted again and I gripped the edge of the counter, "Leave it alone, Alice!" I bellowed, feeling faint just at the thought of Jacob's lips on me. Alice jumped back, not expecting the response, I'm sure. It wasn't common to raise my voice, especially in my parents' house.

"What's going on?" My mother was standing in the doorway of the cellar, wine bottle in hand and a look I rarely ever seen; worry.

"It's nothing," Alice replied, appearing breathless and upset, "Nothing." As if sensing that our conversation was over for the night, she pushed pass me into the hallway leading to the den. I followed her with my eyes until she was completely out of sight.

"Edward, what just happened?" My mother, eyes like a hawk, trained on me.

With the fear and nausea bubbling in me, I turned away, shrugging as if nothing had happened, "A dispute."

**.**

**.**

Even the shrill alarm didn't seem to pull me out of my reverie. I had been up most of the night, trying to piece together what exactly happened that made my mind converge from guilt to...anticipation. The night before ended on a bad note. Alice left early, explaining that she had work to finish. I followed soon after, unable to tolerate the tension in the air. My father, for the second time that night, was clueless as to what was going on. With a farewell and a last ditch effort to get me to contact his friend Aro, they escorted me out.

During the ride home, it wasn't the night that was racing through my mind, it was Jacob. I had been concentrating on getting through the dinner, fooling everyone in to believing me to be as I was the week before, but now with that time over and gone, it was him I was focused on. I tried to construct an idea of what would happen at the Cafe the following afternoon, but I was sure anything I came up with wouldn't be close enough. The boy was unpredictable and a bit of me was anxious and scared to know what he would do next.

I dressed accordingly, had toast and tea for breakfast, seeing how that was all I could manage down, and completed the last of the papers for the semester. At 11:35, I was in my car, starting the engine. I arrived on campus 5 minutes later, and was ordering a bran muffin by 11:52. I needed time to myself before he arrived. I picked a booth away from the front of the cafe, before opening up my laptop, going over the rubric for the assignment he was supposed to follow. Figuring I still had time, I pulled up a file I hadn't opened for a few months. I stared at the program, feeling foolish and quite cliché for even considering writing in a cafe, but the thought slipped from my mind when a muse sparked and I began typing.

Halfway through my muffin, I checked the time on the toolbar. It was 12:16 and there was no sign of Jacob. I sighed, figuring I was lucky to have him running late. There were two paragraphs more to something I once considered incomplete and unfinishable the year before. I saved the progress before shutting down the program.

And to my surprise, my timing was once again perfect. I saw the silhouette of the tall, young boy before he stepped into the cafe. In his worn jeans and white t-shirt, he looked casual, walking the length of the room over to me, as if suspecting I would be there. His bronze skin radiated warmth and somewhat enhanced his less than formal appearance. I held my breath, overwhelmed at the attention I was giving him. I was always aware of how attractive he was, but sitting there in the farthest corner of the cafe, I was realizing that I was actually _attracted _to him. The idea made me steel in efforts to prove to myself this wasn't the case.

"Professor." He addressed me in a rich, deep voice - one I hadn't taken the time to observe before.

"Jacob," The name tasted sweet on my tongue, "You're late. You can't expect proficiency without being presentable at a timely fashion." My statement seemed to amuse him. He chuckled, shaking his head as if he was enjoying his personal inside joke.

"Well, my apologies for not being on time," He took a seat across from me. I noticed how his muscles bulged when he rested his elbows on the small table, "There was a bit of a printing problem in the library."

I frowned, unable to picture him in such a setting, "Why were you there?"

His brown eyes seem to twinkle, "Well, a certain breath-taking professor suggested I re-write a paper for class, following paper prompts using _proficiency_."

"So you completed your paper?"

His full lips were momentarily caressed by his tongue. I was overcome with a micro panic attack, feeling my eyes zero in on the gesture, "I did everything you asked." He spoke huskily.

"Can I see it?" I immediately regretted my words. He lifted an eyebrow as if expecting me to elaborate, before chuckling again.

"Anything you say, professor." He leaned over, picking up a sack many of the kids on campus used for school. Tugging on the tight close of the bag, he dug in, searching for his assignment. My mind whirred with the visual of his hands completely out of sight, through the opening that reminded me so much of a body part under duress. I would have never imagined this prior to his advances. I cleared my throat, adjusting myself in my seat before getting a curious look from him. He smirked, pulling out the stapled papers.

There was a moment of silence, as I went over the work, taking care to observe how he fleshed out and gave examples to the thesis from his earlier rendition.

"What's the verdict?" Jacob spoke up after he was sure I was completely done.

I was not surprised at the impression he made on me. He was an intelligent student, more so than the others in his class and it shown in his writing, "What is your major, Jacob?"

He leaned back in the wooden chair, relaxing his hands in his lap, "I entertained the thought of Philosophy and Creative Writing, but I've been told you make little earnings as a philosopher or a writer, so I settled for Engineering." I couldn't help but empathize with him. Granted, I was never told that writing was less stable, but I knew the probability of failing. I grew up in a home where everything was spoon fed to me and somewhere along the line, I had the strong will to prove I was able to take care of myself even if that was denying my passion.

"I couldn't imagine you doing anything else but write." I frowned, "You're so well versed and you must have a catalog somewhere in your mind of all these literary writers..." I complimented, "I haven't met much people my own age that knew so many."

He folded his arms over his chest, "You're not that much older than me, so it shouldn't surprise you so much."

I frowned, noticing what he was implying, "I'm old enough."

"As am I." His pink tongue coated his bottom lip once again and I couldn't help but focus my attention on it.

"What I mean is given a few more years, it'll be wonderful to see how much your mind expanded pass this point." I pointed out, "Do you write?"

He nodded, "I do." He seemed indifferent and distant about the question.

I hesitated, unsure if he was comfortable with the topic, "I would love to see what you write." I bit my tongue, feeling like a fool for ever asking something so personal. I couldn't, not after Friday.

His eyes softened and I was surprised to see a sweetness to him. What was he thinking about? "I thought you didn't like me, Professor." He joked, but by the way his shoulders relaxed at my comment, the words were truer than he wanted me to realize.

"I never disliked you. I never knew much about you to feel that way. I can't create strong feelings with students. It keeps me objective as I can be in the classroom."

"What about out of the classroom?" He tossed, kinking an eyebrow again. His bright smile had me reconsidering our conversation. He was alluring and he knew it.

I sighed, trying to regain some control, "The best grade I can give you for this paper is a B - and that I'm being generous, Jacob. It'll raise your overall grade to a C for now," I stated, placing the paper on the table, "You'll have to get a perfect score on the final to get a B in the class."

Jacob shrugged, "No problem."

"So you've studied, I take it?"

He merely scoffed, "A man like me, wise beyond his years doesn't study."

"No matter how wise you see yourself to be, Jacob, you do not know everything." I corrected. I felt like a parent for saying such a thing. Granted, he was smarter than men my own age and older, but he was still young, impulsive and believed himself invincible.

"Do _you_ write?" He repeated my question back to me, derailing my thoughts.

My hand instinctively touched the keyboard of my laptop before I answered, "I did."

"Why did you stop?" He appeared curious enough to keep me from distracting him from an answer.

I came to the conclusion that a short answer was the best to utilize, "I was realistic." .

"Didn't think you'd be good enough?" He was spot on, but I fought myself from letting him think he was right.

"Isn't that why you aren't venturing in the fields you wanted to?" I knew my retort was crossing a line and perhaps was enough to make him angry, but I was surprised to see him shake his head again. This time, I could see the maturity in his eyes. It was as if he aged 10 years in a minute.

"I know I'm good enough, but that doesn't matter. Not many people care to listen to a boy like me with an opinion and an idea that I have. Whatever I have to say falls on deaf ears." The echo of his words two days before replayed in my head.

_"This is all I'm worth"_

There was a dull pang in my chest. I had to fix this, if only for the assurance that I would feel better afterwards, "Jacob, when it comes to the literary and art world, the unheard voices are the best to look for. There is always someone listening and no matter who or what you are, if you're good enough, people will want to hear what you have to say, regardless of what it is.

"Men on death row sold books, women in the '60s sold books, even when their opinions were less than respected in the real world. There are best sellers who are gay and those who were on their last dollars," I leaned in, pressing a hand against his warm skin. It felt welcoming and comfortable, "The question isn't if you're worth it, but rather, does everyone else have the worth for your words?"

It was silent at our table for a few seconds. I waited with baited breath, hoping that what I said sunk in enough. The idea that he felt he was worth only a sex favor didn't sit well with me at all. The way he thought was too riveting.

His eyes met mine and he broke out in a beautiful, wide grin, "The words of a prophet." He joked.

"I meant every word." I was serious.

He leaned in, closing the gap between us, "I know." He whispered, "You're a very interesting person, Professor. I've never been so happy to be turned down."

I felt my cheeks grow hot, "You should be. It's unprofessional." I mumbled.

He shrugged, "Is it?" The idea didn't seem to bother him at all and that unnerved me even more, "A mere service exchange."

"Any service exchange between a student and instructor - sexual activities included - is unprofessional."

"And this wasn't a service exchange?" He challenged, gesturing between us, "I work on a better paper and you give me a better grade. We each got something we wanted, did we not?"

"Jacob," He was too clever for his own good, "You know what I meant."

"And what if the 'sexual activities' weren't a service exchange. What if I merely wanted to see you come in my mouth?" He said the last words low enough, but I couldn't help but look over to the occupied table across the cafe.

Flustered and angry that I allowed the conversation to go this far, I made to get up, only to have him quickly pull me back in my seat, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Tell me," He ignored my question, "You said in your syllabus that you don't allow re-do's. Why did you for me, even after I came on to you?"

I wanted to make another attempt to stand, but judging by the way he kept his eyes on me, I knew that such a feat would be impossible to accomplish without arousing attention from patrons, "I knew you could do better. You're very smart and aware of the studies."

"And that was being objective?" He teased, but I knew he was making a point. Of what, I wasn't sure.

"No." I said curtly.

"Right," He nodded, "Because an objective professor would have repeated the line from that syllabus word for word, explaining that I had my one and only chance. He wouldn't have considered how my words were his warped way at foreplay, don't you think?" He added with a smirk.

"Jacob," I wanted to get up again. What he was implying was insane. In no way had I found him sexually attractive before Friday. I was merely merciful, "You're a student."

"And you sported a woody." He brought up.

My stomach gave a threatening lurch and I made to stand up again. This time he stood with me.

"Why aren't you good enough?" He asked, causing me to sputter in confusion.

"What?" I finally let out.

"When you projected not a minute ago, you admitted to not being good enough."

"My personal life isn't any of your business, Jacob."

"Isn't it?" He was quick to ask, "You suggested taking a look at my writing. That's pretty personal."

I felt trapped and yet compelled to stay. I sat back down, feeling foolish that I was going to leave without packing my laptop. He waited until I was relaxed before sitting down and speaking again.

"It's only fair, Professor." The look he wore on his face shone with genuine interest.

**.**

**.**

I had checked the clock and nearly did a double take. Six hours had passed by swiftly in our conversation. I had ordered us two coffees and bagels over that time, but other than that, our afternoon was spent conversing about writing and literature. Jacob took to my career choice as I took to his. I was surprised to witness how good his advice was. I hadn't gone into full detail about my upbringing or the fact that my parents were too at ease with an unemployed writer for a son. The conversation progressed into our favorite novels, to favorite short stories to eventually our favorite writers. Our likings were vastly different, but we both knew with equal insight, what the works were. Even in our disagreements, there was a level of respect for the other's interests. It was easy to lose track of time with him.

"I must have kept you too long." I apologized when I read the time. I was already shutting down my laptop and opening my messenger bag.

"It's not a problem. This is my one day off."

The guilt in me fell harder like dead weight, "And you wasted it. I'm sorry I didn't keep my eyes on the clock."

Jacob smiled and I held my breath, "I'd be happy if my days off were spent like this."

"You weren't bored to tears, then?"

"I just spent 6 hours talking to you." He laughed, "I would have said something after the first 10 minutes."

I stretched in my seat. He watched with interested eyes, his gaze following my movements. His words were comforting, but I was sure there were better things he could have been doing with his free time, "Well, the least I can do is walk you to your car." I closed my notebook and packed it in my bag, waiting for his affirmative response.

"The hunk of shit finally gave out on me. I've been taking the bus the last few weeks."

"Oh." I frowned, "Where do you live?"

"Hudson and 4th." He shrugged.

It wasn't a far drive, but on the bus, that had to be near an hour ride.

I didn't hesitate in my offer, "I can give you a ride home."

He appeared surprised, "Really?" He chuckled, "That's a generous offer, Professor."

"It's the least I can do, Jacob."

He thought for a second, "You sure?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't."

His top teeth dug into his bottom lip, "I'll take your offer."

**.**

**.**

Anything else there was to say was left in the cafe. The car ride was remarkably silent, but somehow the atmosphere between us was high in a type of tension I couldn't put my finger on.

Towards the end of the drive, Jacob gave me the last instructions on the way to turn and park. We were in front of an older apartment building.

"You live with a roommate?" I asked. Most of the students I had ever spoken to roomed at the dorms or still lived with their parents.

Jacob gave me a wry smile as he unbuckled himself, "Something like that." The answer wasn't what I expected. In fact, I couldn't help thinking of a lover. A boy or a girl - I wasn't sure. The thought didn't sit well with me. Jacob didn't hide his flirtatious behavior and what he had said to me was more than an implication for sex. He willingly offered himself, but was it only for a service? As inane as it was to bother thinking over such a thing, I did.

"Oh." The disappointment was evident in my tone. I felt so much like a child. I had no idea why I was troubled, but Jacob appeared to know. He cocked his head, catching my expression before smiling.

"I live with my father." He answered softly, "He's kind of a roommate because of the accident. I pretty much have to pay for everything in the house now." He shrugged.

"Accident?" My curiosity was peaked again. It seemed that even after a long talk, my hunger for information wasn't satiated.

Jacob withdrew from our gaze, unlocking the door, "Yeah."

"Jacob-" I wasn't sure what I wanted to say, but it was clear that this wasn't something he wanted to talk about. The door handle rattled, before Jacob met my gaze again.

"The door," He smirked, "I think it's jammed." I felt my brow furrow in confusion. My car was fairly new and never appeared to have any problems before.

"Are you pushing hard enough?" I asked, a bit skeptical.

"Mmm, is that alright with you?" His deep voice rumbled with lust. At the pit of my stomach, I felt a feathery sensation, fluttering down to my groin. My breath hitched and I tried my best to cover it with a cough.

"Let me try." I leaned over his warm body, hooking my fingers over his. I didn't push - I couldn't. I was so close to him, taking in his earthy scent, feeling his nose burrow into my neck as his hand moved to cup my cheek in order to keep me there. I rested my palm against his shoulder in an attempt to pull away, "Jacob." I whined, feeling trapped in a web of attraction. How was a day like this different from just two days before?

"You're so fucking sexy, Professor." He whispered against the shell of my ear, "You don't know how hard it was to not bend you over in that cafe table and fuck you senseless."

"Don't," I pleaded, "don't say that." My insides quaked at the words and my gut tingled in anticipation. He pulled his face away only far enough to catch my eyes in his.

"Why shouldn't I?" He teased, "When you want me to so fucking much." He didn't wait for an answer. He leaned in capturing my lips in a searing kiss.

My world stopped.

I thought of no consequences, no appropriate relations between students and instructors. All I felt was him, warm and embracing.

I moaned against his lips, feeding his hungry need as he plunged his tongue in me. The kiss was rough and spoke more words than either of us could say in 6 hours. And like a dam breaking in me, I was filled with a most questionable thirst to have him for myself in ways that never crossed my mind before.

"Jacob," I whimpered between his mouth caressing my own. With a strength measurable with his build, one hand gripped my thigh and the other, my waist. I was straddling his lap in record time, topping him with my weight as he pressed my body against his. The feat was easy, even in the compacted space.

I was lost in a haze of him, unsure where this was going. We breathed each other in for endless minutes, perhaps an hour, I wasn't sure. It wasn't until the headlights of a passing car did I come to my senses - quite hard.

"Stop." I panted, pulling myself off his lap, back into the driver's seat. We sat in our separate spots heaving in and out in deep breaths, "We can't do that, Jacob."

He laughed, "You are the first, Professor Cullen."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He was quiet for a moment, "Thanks for the ride. I really appreciated it." His words were dead and dark, as if I switched a light off to his mood. He leaned over, grabbing his bag, before holding the handle again.

"Jacob, wait." I urged. The feeling that overcame me seeing him like that, hurt me, "It's just wrong for us."

"No," He shook his head and chuckled darkly, "It's wrong for _you_."

I stared back at his profile, unsure where this moment could lead us in the future, "I don't know what you expect from this."

"A better grade." He retorted, before throwing my door open and getting out and slamming it shut.

The door wasn't jammed at all.

**.**

**.**

My mind was on overdrive the next few days. The moment I got home that night, I was overcome with nausea and fears. Did he have friends that he spoke to? Would he tell them? Did anyone see us? My body shuddered and I coughed up the coffee, bagels and bran muffin into my toilet.

The last words from Jacob didn't sit well with me at all. I wasn't sure what I had done. I assumed he wanted nothing do to with me after I had proofed his grade as better, but the lingering bitterness he left with, hurt more than I wanted it too. The day of finals came and I was overrun with anxiety. I arrived early, preparing for the finals for my ENG 330 class before checking my e-mails. Bella and I, both teachers, were more often trading e-mails than phone calls considering the time we each spent on our computers. I wasn't surprised to see a message from her, alerting me of a date set up with a nutritionist she met at the local corner market. It already appeared that she was enamored with him.

When the time was right, I gathered the stacks of paper and my messenger bag and walked halfway across campus to the building I was scheduled to have the final exams. The students poured in, with looks of trepidation and unease before settling comfortably in their seats. I was happy that I didn't have to speak long before I handed them their paper and sat back patiently with one of my favorite books of collective short stories from different authors. It was my attempt to keep my mind off of him, but only exacerbated the anxiety that rolled and tumbled in my gut like a hurricane. I wanted to smile at Kafka's name in the table of contents and snort while bypassing Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery". We had a lifetime talk of short stories in perhaps the span of two hours.

The class finished up in their limited two hours, with only one student sticking around after the time was up. In a nervous jitter, he handed me his essay and multiple choice answers, whispering to me to have a great summer. I replied in same, stacking all the work together before tucking it in my bag. I walked the short distance to the next assigned room, sitting behind the instructor's desk before utilizing the little time I had to grade the work.

An hour passed in a blink of an eye and the first line of students walked in, tired and haggard from a week of papers and finals. I held my breath, waiting for him to grace me with his presence. I needed a sign that he was alright or at least back to how he was before anything happened between us. The exam period started and he was nowhere in the smaller classroom. I began explaining the rules, how the exam was laid out, before handing out the questions and essay prompts.

The class started in a rustle of paper and clicking of mechanical pencils. I backtracked to the desk, a frown expressed on my features, I'm sure. I wanted him to pass the class and be on time, but more than anything, I wanted to know if he was alright. Perhaps that night in the car was off his mind, but I'd worry senseless if he didn't show up. He could physically be hurt. I sat at the desk, willing my obsessed concern away. Who was I to be overly worried about a student I've only _just_ spoken to about a week ago? In my best of attempts, I diverted my energy to completing the first class exams. I was nearly halfway done when the door to the room pushed open only to hit the wall and shudder at the force. I looked up from my papers, my framed glasses hanging just mid-way off my nose, catching sight of Jacob crossing the room, heading to me. The wheels on my chair squeaked as I shrank back. I didn't know what to expect. Catching the look in his eyes - smoldered anger and...I couldn't register it - my body submitted to a series of shudders. What was he going to say? Our eyes never broke contact. He was at my desk, casual and like his usual self, everything was the same, except his eyes. I wanted, needed to ask him to talk to me after class. I hadn't slept right, or kept the right train of thought, because he was all I saw. I wanted a way for him to be out and it could only happen when I brought it to light and assessed the problem.

He opened his mouth, his gaze moving to my lips before meeting my eyes again, "Sorry I'm late." He said flatly. It was anti-climatic, a deadened suspense. And it hurt. He grabbed the essay prompt and multiple choice sheet and turned away from me, walking to the farthest seat in the room. I stared at his back, unable to piece together what just happened.

I came to the conclusion that whatever drive and attraction he had for me was gone. The reward wasn't worth the chase I figured. I was unable to move at my desk and it was hard masking the distraught bubble in my chest. I was disgusted with myself and at the same time in need to understand why it was so easy for him to turn himself off to me. I got up on weak legs, pushing my chair back on the carpeted floor. I didn't need to alert the students as to where I was going. I was out of the room, into the building's hallway, looking for any quiet, empty place I could have to myself. I pushed against the bathroom door, knowing I wouldn't find anyone inside with the exam period still on. I felt the nausea rise in a wilder rush than the last few times.

Whatever was fueling it was different. I rushed to the nearest open stall, letting out the little I had that morning for breakfast. My stomach clenched when all was out, leaving me to dry heave. My eyes watered from the muscle exertion, before I allowed myself to grip the toilet seat in efforts to keep me from buckling under my new-found unmanageable weight.

Pulling myself up at full height moments later, I flushed the toilet and gripped the stall walls to keep myself on my feet. I made it to the sink, holding the lip of the counter. I washed my face, rinsed out my mouth and adjusted any pieces of clothing that was out of place. When I appeared marginally better than how I looked when I walked in, I stepped out with my destination in mind.

The class didn't seem to acknowledge my disappearance. For that, I was glad. I avoided looking over in Jacob's corner as I walked to my seat. I glanced at the clock, noting the class had 40 minutes left, before continuing work through the last exam papers. I stared at the clock, moments later, seeing that ten minutes passed.

My throat, still raw from the acid that passed through it, was cleared before I alerted the class that they had half an hour left. It wasn't a minute after, that I saw movement. This was around the point where most students finished up and headed out. I looked up, expecting perhaps one of the brighter kids in the classroom to hand me their exam. I was surprised to see the brightest of them all; Jacob.

Our eyes met only briefly. I recognized the indifference from earlier. Before I looked away, it changed however. I didn't want to think about what was crossing his mind. I was still the Instructor and there was still an entire class I had to focus on.

"Thank you, Jacob." I took the paper, keeping my eyes trained on my grading papers, "Have a great summer." I added for good measure, in case any of the other students were to overhear. I assembled his papers into a neat, separate pile before continuing what I was doing. I still felt him standing at my desk, waiting. It was making me anxious feeling his presence there. Before I could let my panic rise, there was an aggravated grunt from him and he was walking out of the classroom.

**.**

**.**

It was the last afternoon I would spend in my office this semester. Having finished a handful of exam grading during finals night, there wasn't much else left to finish in the office. Like I expected, there were no last minute requests or complaints made by any of my students, so I was able to get all the exam grading finished in good time. There was still much more work to grade and input into my log before I turned it into the University, so I wasn't seeing the end of names, scores and papers.

I was able to distract myself all day, with an early breakfast with Bella before her last final. She told me about her date with the nutritionist, a guy by the name of Mike, not glossing over any information they discussed. To her pleasure and surprise, he had a passion for Black & Whites - classics. It kept them at the restaurant until close. She fondly recalled the event before stating that their next date was that night. As much as I was happy she found a decent date interested in her, I couldn't help the building envy I felt. She was able to talk to him and date and do whatever normal people did when they had that strange magnetic pull to another. It was conflict free and exhilarating for her. When she asked about any new dates for myself, I dismissed the question, a bit rudely, I'm sure, but there was no way I could talk about it without mentioning Jacob. He was marked permanently in my mind, had been for over a week now. There were no e-mails from him and judging by the way he disregarded me, I knew that any chances of seeing him was left up to the luck of catching him walking to one of his last exams. There was a chance that that moment in class was our last exchange. That knowledge wasn't supposed to make me feel dread, but relief.

Bella's big, brown eyes observed my change in mood. She hadn't said a word about it, but I knew the wheels were turning in her head. It took only a few weeks to learn that Bella was as observant, but thankfully not as persistent as my sister. Alice had already began her snooping. It seemed that waiting for me to come around wasn't as quick as she expected. She began her calls, intrusive visits and dating mentions once more. It was to the point where the University Library became sanctuary on her off hours. I had, so far, successfully maintained my silence and I could tell it was driving her beyond mad.

Realizing that she knew my office hours, I made up my mind to start packing up my messenger bag. I still had about 20 minutes left on my schedule, but I was sure no students would make any last minute complaints. Closing my laptop, I stood to my feet, lifting to the tips of my toes as I stretched out the morning stress and tight muscles from being immobile for the last few hours. I didn't hear the door open, so the snap of it closing had me jump back in mid-stretch, tensing my muscles nearly tight as they were prior to getting up. I looked over my shoulder and gasped.

Jacob - more beautiful than ever - stood in the room with his hands tucked behind his back, his body leaning against the door. The shirt he wore was white and worn, the sleeves ripped off, revealing his bulging bicep muscles under shiny copper skin. His short, ebony locks shimmered under the weak light in the room. He cocked his head at me, his eyes drinking in my state.

"I wanted to make sure our deal was still intact." His voice was raw and not as composed as I remembered.

Understanding that this was business rather than anything personal, I attempted to relax my muscles, letting my arms and shoulders fall before I turned to my laptop, grabbing it by the spine before slipping it in my bag.

"I wouldn't go back on my word." I answered, keeping my eyes on what I was doing. He was standing as he had before - silent. Yet his presence was so strong. I could feel words he wanted to say, but refrained from doing so and it only compounded the tension. My back muscles tightened in preparation. Something about this moment, I knew there was another reason he was here.

"I would have never thought you were anything like the others." He growled, accusingly. His tone had me snapping my head in his direction.

"What exactly would that mean, Jacob?" My pulse boiled and pumped in my ears as I took in the fury in his eyes. I couldn't understand why _I_ was being punished when I did nothing but think clearly for the both of us.

"You got what you wanted." He blamed and I nearly laughed at the irony.

"Barely." I replied flatly, feeling the bitterness on my tongue. His brown eyes widened in confusion, before a completely different look took over his face.

"What stopped you then?" His body language, no longer stiff and distant, shifted to something more welcoming.

"I don't want to jeopardize anything for us just to satisfy something we can control."

He kinked an eyebrow, "Can we?" He challenged.

I wasn't sure I could answer the question. My body ached for him, my mind couldn't focus on anything else.

"We have to." I pleaded. As much as I wanted to persuade him we needed control, self-restraint, I had none when he touched me. I needed him to cooperate. I needed him to _not_ give me what I wanted so much right now; to be touched by him.

"I won't." He said back with such a frustrated bark, my body coiled in shivers of submission. I didn't have time to regroup. He was already in front of me, large hands wrinkling the fabric of my shirt as he pinched my hips in his fingers. He bowed his head, kissing the sensitive skin under my ear, "I want to fuck you until you scream for me to stop. I need to touch you so much, it's driving me crazy." His voice was husky and coated in lust. It forced a gaspy moan from my throat. I couldn't fight this much longer. I'd give him anything he wanted, even if it was all he wanted.

"Jacob," I whimpered, "Please. I don't have much fight in me."

He pressed his scorching lips to my neck, "Tell me why you want me." He asked, desperately. He wanted to hear something, but I wasn't sure what.

I gave him all I had, my shame terminated, "You have a beautiful mind, Jacob. I want to know everything about you, I want to drown in you. I want to feel you," He groaned in my ear, pressing his fingers onto my flesh with so much force, I was sure I'd bruise, "Everything about you is breathtaking." With a shaky hand, I touched his cheek, his jaw, and lips, feeling every angle, every piece of him.

"Fuck," He was able to get out through a clenched jaw. A yelp of surprise flew out of my mouth as he leaned over, grabbing me from behind my thigh, lifting until my rear met my desk. He fell in between my legs, not allowing me to register the movement. Full lips caressed my neck, jaw and lips in heated need. I leaned in to every touch, my mind fuzzy as I let him do as he pleased. My hips jerked up at his insistent tugging.

He was unbuckling my pants, attempting to...

A bit of clarity struck me, though not enough, "Jacob, wait." I panted against his lips. He pulled back staring at me with wounded eyes. This was a look I hadn't seen before. Was he crumbling as much as I was? "Not here." I said quickly, hoping he understood my implication.

A smirk filled his face, and I sighed in relief "If not here, where?"

I didn't take a moment to think, "My house." His head pulled back in astonishment.

"You're shitting me!" He said, clearly surprised. I nodded, "Fuck." With renewed eagerness, he kissed me, expressing appreciation that confused me.

"Professor, take me home." He requested.

**.**

**.**

I made Jacob meet me at the car. I didn't want to be spotted walking around campus with him, but I was sure in the safety of the vacant employee parking lot, we'd be able to avoid the eye of anyone I may have known. My body was pulsing with a raging excitement I had never experienced before. I had never felt this with the women I dated or had romantic relationships with. It wasn't the taboo, I was sure of it. Because what I desired from him went beyond sex. I needed him to know my expressions weren't because I wanted anything from him. It broke me to hear him say I got what I wanted. He was so far from right.

I didn't want his body, I wanted _him._ And if he was offering, nothing in me would hold back to hesitate. I would regret it in the morning perhaps even suffer from the immense guilt. In reality, he was a student, he was younger and I was giving into his sexual desire. I understood that there was a way this wouldn't end well. I thought about the chance that he could just want me for an entirely different reason than why I wanted him.

I knew I could get hurt.

But I couldn't stop.

I made sure to not touch him in the parking lot, nodding at him as he leaned against my Volvo. We got in, keeping silent until I pulled out the garage, and off the campus.

His hand was instantly in my lap, giving my thigh a squeeze, but that was all that was expressed between us before I entered the quiet suburban area of where I resided.

I parked the car in the garage, not wanting any of my neighbors to see Jacob and I get out. A few of them were familiar with me even thought I kept mostly to myself. It would have been easy to put together that a young man, no obvious relation to me, would be doing with my company.

We entered through the kitchen, silent in our company, but it was impossible not to feel the heat of his gaze. Once the click of the garage door sounded behind us, he maneuvered behind be, pressing his hip into my back.

"Jac-" I began, but gasped when I recognized the prodding of his engorged arousal against my back. His lips withheld no hesitation, pressing in open kisses along my neck, before I felt the tips of his fingers digging into my waist, turning me on the spot. I didn't have enough time for a reaction or to vocalize any protests for that matter. He found gold when an open mouthed kiss was pressed over my Adam's apple. There was no control. Jacob was dominant in his sexual experience - exploring areas of my body I never considered a lover would place their hands. His tongue painted the length of my neck, curling along the incline until flattening on my chin. Our lips met in a short, rough kiss.

"Where do you want me, baby?" He asked, completely comfortable with the pace we were going. We had barely shared a decent conversation and he found comfort in this intimacy? I couldn't deny that I felt his desire in every touch and gesture, but it didn't help the nerves in my gut, the clenching of the muscles. I knew these were the tell-tale signs of nausea.

"The couch." I gestured out the swinging double doors to the hidden living room. He didn't question my odd suggestion. He merely nodded, taking my hand in his and guiding me to my own couch. We walked into the open area, bypassing the dining room, which served as an extension of my library rather than a place to actually eat. He sat first, using the momentum of his fall to bring me down with him on his lap.

"You want me to fuck you or do you want to see how tight my ass is?" I pulled away startled.

"Jacob!" I didn't take offence, but I couldn't hide the incredulous look I gave him.

"What?" He smirked, "Haven't spoken dirty before?" His lips found purchase on my jaw before using the skill of his hands to run the length of my torso, only to dip down under the hem of my shirt before lifting it up, letting in a draft of air.

"Wait, Jacob, please." I begged.

"Decided to take this to the bed, huh?" He teased, "It'll be more comfortable."

"No, I need to - hey," I took the initiative to cease contact first, "We don't have to do this." I offered. I wanted there to be a look of relief, maybe even a bit of resentment at my change in direction. He was treating this as some form of sex favor for the grade I was giving him in the class. Part of that broke something in me, clenched my insides and made it drop as if in a free-fall and another part made me wonder just what a beautiful, intelligent person like himself had to endure to behave this way. I had a sudden desire to protect him.

He pulled away, shock clearly the dominant emotion, "This again?" he asked, then scoffed, "Why did you bring me here, then?" He tried to hide his wounded ego with annoyance, but I could see right through it. Turning away from me, he focused his eyes on the wall parallel to the couch. I didn't allow this, tucking my fingers under his chin before directing his focus back to me.

"I want you." I admitted honestly, feeling my gut twist and clench tightly.

"Then why did you stop?" He was suddenly vulnerable, eyes soft and questioning.

I couldn't fathom an answer. Adjusting myself on his lap, I cupped his cheek, trying to find the right words, "Tell me about yourself," His brown eyes narrowed in thought, searching my own as if to read if I was genuine, "Please."

"What do you want to know?" He finally gave in.

I couldn't help the smile that graced my lips.

**.**

**.**

"Is it hard?"

Brushing the tips of his fingers along mine, Jacob shook his head, "He's pretty tough. Taking care of him isn't a chore, but work does get to me." We had spent the last hour talking. It was my attempt to get to know him, understand just what I felt and why I wanted to be in his company. The topics carried on from school, to his high school past, to eventually his father's accident and the affects it had on him as a college student.

"You don't need to work, not with the disability checks he gets, right?"

"I don't use that money. It's for him."

"Jacob. I see you when you come to class. You look beaten. Maybe if-"

"I don't have a choice."

"What do you mean you don't have a choice?" I pressed, "Along with your benefits from school, that should be enough money to cover-"

"Rent and tuition?" He finished, now keeping a leveled tone, "I have things I have to take care of."

"Like what, Jacob?" I pressed. He turned away from me, leaning back onto the couch, a look of refrain on his face, "Do you need help with something? I know things must be hard-"

"I'm not charity."

"I'm not saying you are, I just-" I held my tongue, not sure where I was going with the statement. I knew some students had trouble with money in the past, but it was never my role to step in and do anything about it. It was inappropriate and too personal. But I crossed lines already with Jacob. It didn't matter what I did at this point.

"I already owe you for my grade. Do you want entitlement to all of me, Professor?"

"Absolutely not." I snapped, annoyed that he still assumed less of me. I sighed, feeling my morals catch up. Perhaps I could still go back to being impersonal and appropriate, "I don't know why I brought you here."

"Shit," Jacob scowled, "neither do I." Without a second glance at me, he got on his feet, walking towards the front of the house. I watched in shock as left the living room. I got up, following him.

"Jacob!" I called after him. He didn't respond, "Jacob please." He was already on the sidewalk when I reached the front door. With effort, I caught up with him as he neared the end of the street. It was still light out, though the neighborhood was still silent. The home traffic hadn't started yet, but we were still in the open. I hooked my hand around as much of his arm I could get, stopping him.

He turned on the spot, surprising me, "What is it with you?" He snapped in a accusatory tone, "You either want me or you don't. Don't play these fucking games."

My throat dried at his words. I stared back at him, watching those dark eyes cloud in emotion I couldn't read yet, "Stay." I pleaded.

"For what?" He sneered, "To talk? So you can feel sorry for me and play the good teacher so you won't have to face the fact that you want to fuck me in every possible way?"

My skin felt hot. I was almost positive I was glowing red in his presence. He was right. I did want him, I yearned to feel his weight on me, his full lips burning trails everywhere on my flesh, but I needed to understand why first. Why this carnal desire for _him_? Why was this happening now? He was an engaging mind and on any other normal occasion, I would have taken joy in academic topics with him. But here, right now, I wanted all of him. His mind _and _body.

"I'm trying to understand, I-" I licked my lips, finding it remarkable that as a man who studied English and its recorded history, I was at a loss for words, "I want you. I never wanted anyone like this..." He watched me, perhaps trying to decipher whether or not I was genuine in my words. His features softened then, his jaw loosening its clench, his eyes searched mine in what seemed to be concern.

"You feel guilty." He stated, stepping within my breathing room. I relished his nearness, despite standing on the corner of the street, knowing anyone could see this instructor and his student, "No one else ever felt guilty." I was suddenly taking in the meaning of his words. I knew there had been others he tempted, but it never occurred to me how easily each of them had given in, or perhaps easily initiated. Was this how it all started? Someone offered him a better grade for services? Was he selling himself without even knowing it. I hadn't noticed my hands cupping his cheeks before it was too late to drop them. Our eyes met and I could read his history, his fears. I mumbled for us to get back inside and he followed silently. My hand never left his arm, not because I feared his escape, but rather the fear of sanity coming back once I didn't have the security and comfort of his warmth.

I couldn't wrap my mind around it. Alice had spoken of love at first sight. She had regaled me with the stories; two individuals in a room, their eyes meet and the earth stops. I wasn't sure what I felt for Jacob. It was too soon to even consider love, but if following the theorem of Alice, I should have noticed Jacob's affect on me the day our eyes met. I had always acknowledged him, found him bothersome, yet entertaining and it had occurred to me more than once that he was an intelligent student, but never had I felt hungry for more of him. Not until he made his presence known, made his move. I felt guilty, yes, but I wasn't sure what I felt most guilty about; wanting him the way that I did or the reason I wanted him the way that I did. Did I want him _merely_ because he offered? If so, that made me no different than any of his teachers before me.

We stepped inside the warmth of my house, my hands still on him. Once the door was closed and secured behind us, I felt comfortable enough to take the next step in grasping what this was. With force, I pressed myself into him, pushing his weight against the opposite wall, "Help me.." I could only hope that he would understand my desire, my need to know. There was no nod, no affirmative vocal response, but he let me know he was there with me, angling his head, pressing his lips against mine.

His taste was...addictive.

I moaned and he took advantage, combing his fingers through my hair before tightening around them, pulling from the roots. The kiss, started as a test, a step into waters and in under a minute, I was swimming, wading and diving in rough waves. I was drowning in him. My moan became husky and drawn out, my legs buckling under the force of the sensations ripping through me. His tongue found solace in the warm cavern of my mouth and I found comfort in his fingers, his taste, his scent. His thigh pressed between my legs, keeping me steady.

"Jake..." He answered with a deep growl, pressing his hip into me. My whole body trembled as my eyes fluttered close. It was overwhelming, electric. A hum of pleasure flowed through me like watts of sex, pulsing and zapping with every renewed contact. My palms pressed against his shoulder blades, my fingers curling over muscle. We had rolled along the wall with his weight pressed against me. Taking the liberty, he grabbed my right thigh, hoisting it over his waist, allowing for better access to my responding arousal trapped in my slacks. It was impossible to even think straight, not when I felt him, _all_ of him.

"Professor," He moaned the word, "take me to your room." His grip on me slackened, his lips pecking my cheek and jaw. I nodded and he backed away, giving me room to move. On shaky legs, I found my balance. I tried stepping forward, only to feel my knees buckle. With a husky laugh, Jacob's arm wrapped around me, catching my weight. Pressing his lips to my ear, I felt his hot breath, moaning at the warmth of it, "Your room, Professor." He reminded me. I shuddered, but held his arm and in my best attempt guided him down the short route to my room.

We collapsed on the bed, his body on me, his hardness deliciously in full contact with mine. His forehead grazed under my ear and my body bucked under his hearing him inhale deeply. Our contact wasn't enough, "Touch me, Jacob."

"Yes, Professor." His muffled voice said against my skin. He didn't give me a moment to reconsider my request. His hand was tugging on my pants, unbuckling and unzipping in a few, short tugs.

"Ungh!" I gasped just when his warm hands held my pulsing heat. He grunted, bucking his hips with every movement. My member was slick with arousal to my surprise, allowing for ease in each stroke. I cried out just as his fist pulsed around me. He pulled his head back, watching me with lidded eyes, a trace of a smirk on his lips.

"Do you want my lips around you, Professor?" He asked gently. It was an easy question. All I needed to do was nod for yes or shake my head for no, but the words were muddled syllables in my head. I groaned pathetically, hands clawing at his biceps, feeling it inflate then shrink with each jerk of his hand. My breath came in short pants and my gut tickled and tightened. It had been years since I had been touched this way. It was some faceless woman from some forgotten date Alice had set me up on. She made the first moves, not budging when I suggested a second date to get to know each other better. It was never my intention to have any kind of physical relationship with her, just like the few women who preceded her, but the night ended different than planned. I was speechless in efforts to get it over with. I hoped that afterwards, she'd be satisfied and I could leave. This was different. I was speechless because of the torrent of emotions and thoughts flooding me, one overrunning the other.

"Tell me, Professor." He begged. He bit his lip, watching my expression. There was something there, something more than a need to know what I wanted.

Between pants, I whispered, "I want to touch you. C-can I-?" His smirk widened into a bright smile. Pressing his lips against mine in a quick peck, he nodded.

He took my hand, guiding it to the front of his jeans, "Stroke me, baby." My hands shook, but I was able to pull the tab of his jeans and unbutton him. I whimpered, feeling the satin heat of him. He wasn't wearing underwear, "Mmm, just like that." He moaned, throwing his head back. His stroke ceased on me, but his grip was still tight enough to keep me stimulated. I pressed fingers experimentally against his slit, getting a deep, lusty moan. My fingers slide along his staff, taking in every vein, every ridge. Jacob bucked against me again, letting his head fall into the curve of my neck. Holding my breath, I explored his body more, curling my digits around the loose skin at the base of his arousal, gently rolling them. This was my first time touching a male body other than my own so intimately. I wanted to know where we differed in sensations and genetic make-up. I wanted to know if he had birthmarks, if he was sensitive in his neck and back like I was, if kissing turned him on more than touching. I wanted to know everything right then. He was uncharted territory and mapping his body was the only way I knew I could understand...

"Hold on, baby," He pulled his hand away from my aching need, "I have an idea." I moved my hand as well and watched in wonder as he drew his body back, taking the hem of his shirt and lifting it over his head. My eyes widened at the movement of muscle under brown skin. He shimmied out of his jeans, his arousal bobbing with movement before he tossed the fabric aside. With one sweeping motion, he had my slacks and briefs off as well. I took no time questioning that he wanted me as naked as he was, so I discarded my dress shirt accordingly. He watched me in silence as I lay before him, exposed and turned on, "You're beautiful, Professor." He grinned, climbing back on the bed. Parting my thighs with his legs, he fell into me, our chest meeting as well as our hips.

"J-jac-!" I cried out, my hands automatically circling around his hips and pressing into the swell of his ass.

"Feels good?" He panted, hot puffs of his breath coating my cheek and chin. I responded by lifting my head off the bed, pressing my lips against his. We were entangled in a feverish kiss, our bodies writhing and rocking. Our stomachs trapped our arousals, juices coating and joining with each thrust. I pulled back, my head falling on the mattress as my torso lifted off the bed. It was such an addicting sensation.

"I'm close, baby." He cried out, his rocking hips becoming erratic in rhythm. I allowed for the change, knowing I couldn't take much more. I cradled his face in my hands, enjoying the sight of his swollen lips and blissful expressions, "Fuck." He panted. Rules were forgotten, a world of blind dates and grading papers. It was just me and him. Us, touching and conversing in ways I have never perfected, let alone experienced before. My body rocked in tremors, warm liquid erupted between us and I was riding a high I had never known.

"Shit, babe!" I felt his thick, hardness coat me and mix with my juices. He fell against my body and a pleasurable joy taking over me feeling his full weight.

I was exhausted and wired at the same time. The current hadn't ceased, only pulsed on. He inhaled and exhaled against my chest before his lips peppered along my shoulder. I wanted this for as long as I could have it. As my body gave in to sleep, I stroked his back, humming in pleasure when his lips continued to massage me.

"Stay." I whispered, my throat raw and used.

"Yes, Professor."

**.**

**.**

There was noise, a familiar sound. A clicking of heels, dishes being moved. I sighed contently, feeling warmth under my cheek. He stayed. In fact, somehow during sleep, we had moved. He was on his back, arm secured around my waist, while I rested my head on his chest, my leg over his. I shifted, feeling a feather light fabric along my bottom half. Maybe we hadn't moved around in sleep after all. Jacob clearly moved us, covering both our bodies for modesty.

And he stayed.

I didn't have time to relish the thought. There was a light knock on my door, before it creaked in motion. Someone was here. My eyes shot open at the small gasp. Sitting up, my eyes met hers. A hand was clasped over her mouth, her green eyes were wide and glassy.

"Alice," I called, just as she turned on her heels to leave, "Wait." I shot out of bed, combing the floor for my slacks. I cringed at the dried cum on my stomach and chest, knowing it wouldn't help talking to her in this condition. I grabbed the first shirt I could get my hands on and threw it over my head. My feet slapped against the wood as I followed after her. She stood in the kitchen, her small frame leaning on the counter, her head bowed.

"Alice," I tried again. She didn't answer, "I'm sorry."

"You didn't trust me."

"That's not it-"

"All those dates. I thought maybe you just haven't found the right one and-"

"I didn't know either." I bit my lip. We stood in silence, one that wasn't comfortable.

She found her place before me, arms crossed, "He's the student." She whispered.

"Yes."

"Edward, you can't do this. If anyone was to find out..."

"I know."

"You need to end this with him." She pleaded, "Now."

There was no way I could walk away from this. Not after last night, "I can't."

Her features contorted into anger, "Why not?" She huffed, "If dad knew about this-"

"You'd be wise to keep this from him." I snapped. Her eyes widened, but she remained silent. I had never in my life raised my voice to my sister, and lately, it appeared to be all I was doing, "Let me handle my own problems, Alice. You're not my match-maker and you're not my conscience."

"I only want what is best for you." She whispered. She was near tears.

"Then you'll stay out of my personal life."

"Is everything okay?" His husky voice was like a drug taking its course through me. He was standing in the doorway of the kitchen in his jeans, but with no shirt on. He looked between me and Alice, worry on his face.

"Yes." I answered quickly, "Everything is fine."

"Maybe I should-" He jerked his thumb in the direction of the front door.

My heart hammered in my chest, "No!" I protested, "Jacob..." He didn't speak at first, his eyes lingering on me and Alice.

"You look busy." His voice was tight as he spoke, but his expression was blank. He turned back in the direction of my bedroom, walking away from us.

I turned to Alice quickly, not surprised to see the look of concern on her face, "Stay here." I ordered, before running to catch up with Jacob. I caught him bent over near my bed, gathering his socks and shoes.

"I left my bag in your car." He said, not looking straight at me.

"You don't have to leave, Jacob. My sister is intrusive, but she's still polite."

He raised his eyes, a skeptical expression on his face. "Your sister..." It seemed that the idea had just occurred to him that she was a relative. Which could only mean...

"God, you thought she was..." I shook my head, "I wouldn't have allowed what we did last night if I had a..."

I was relieved to see the casual teasing smirk fill his face again, "But you'd allow something to happen with a student?" He challenged, "Professor, you have such high morals." I stared back at him, speechless. I couldn't understand how he could make me disregard a rule -no, a law - and then so easily thrust it upon me as if the actions were all my own. I was aware that the words were in jest, yet I couldn't help but think that he was making a point.

"You're wearing my shirt." I jumped, not noticing how close he stood. I hadn't paid attention to what exactly I threw on, but now that I had a second chance to glance down and see, I was sporting an oversized t-shirt.

"Sorry." I sighed, slipping out of it before handing it to him. He smirked, grabbing it in one fist and cradling the back of my neck with the other, dropping his shoes and socks in the process. Our lips met in a rough, forceful kiss, but I didn't mind the intensity of the contact at all. Just feeling him this close was all I could ask for at this moment.

And that surprised me.

"You look good in it." He winked, "I have to go. I have work." And like that he was throwing on his shirt, watching me expectantly.

"Give me 5 minutes. I can drive you-"

"I'll be fine taking public transportation," He shrugged, already securing his feet in his sneakers, "My job isn't far from your neighborhood."

"Are you sure?"

His eyebrows were furrowed together, shock written on his face, "Yeah." He answered in a breathless whisper.

I sighed in defeat, "Okay."

Once he was fully dressed, I escorted him to the garage, passing the kitchen. Alice was no longer by the counter, but I was sure she hadn't left. Her curiosity wouldn't allow her to.

I grabbed his bag, handing it to him before opening the garage door so he could slip out. Before he could depart though, I felt the need to say something - anything.

"What happened last night, I-" I watched as his face flickered from what appeared to be disappointment to hurt, before masking into indifference. To save face, I took his free hand in mine, "I don't know what is going on. I know it's not right, what we did, but I want to see you again. Don't expect anything more-"

He surprised me by speaking, "I'm not." It wasn't harsh or angry. For the first time, he sounded as if he was aware of a consequence. I wanted to know what he felt he was risking by consorting with me, other than being dropped from the University.

"When can I see you again?"

He searched my eyes, then - as if by second thought - leaned into a much gentler kiss, "I'll let you know."

**.**

**.**

The back patio was where I spent some nights thinking. It was where I concluded I had a better life at teaching than writing, it was where I convinced myself that I never was going to find anyone for me and it was where I told Alice about Jacob.

She had been waiting for me there - as if she knew this was the only place this would be open for discussion. I sat next to her on the swinging chair, noting how her legs were curled up under her. She stared ahead at the thicket of trees in my yard, not speaking. She was waiting for me.

"He came to me after I handed out the final papers for class." I began, watching her face for a response, "He wanted to make it up."

"You don't make up papers." She knew the rules.

"I know." I nodded, "I knew he was smart, but that wasn't reason enough. Something about him... I didn't want to shoot potential down. I gave him a second chance only to indulge the thought that I may have wanted the same if I was in the same situation."

"Situation?" She finally turned to be with a raised eyebrow.

"I suspected things were tougher for him. He came to class late, he was always tired. And as much as it was easy to assume him to be like any other slacking student, I just couldn't."

"You weren't just attracted to him?"

"No." I answered vehemently, "I couldn't say I was attracted to him until-" The Cafe.

"I don't know, Edward." She heaved a sigh, "I saw you that night. You were so...overwhelmed."

I remembered clearly. And in hindsight, I could say that it was more than just the idea of me being caught in any romantic relationship with a student. Sitting there in that particularly sunny morning, staring at the swaying trees and clear blue sky, I could admit that Jacob struck some unknown piece of me dead on, as if he knew it existed and beckoned it out.

**.**

**.**

It had been a year since I'd written so much in such little time. Staring at the blinking cursor under the black blocks of letters, I grinned in triumph. How many pages had I written in the last 12 hours?

Sipping cold tea, I leaned back in my office chair, relishing in the sound of the aching groan of the metal and plastic. I had completed and input all the grades the previous afternoon, so this was supposed to be the first day of my actual vacation. Yet somehow, the pulse carried on through me. I couldn't sleep, couldn't really think straight until I written down the words and I owed that to him.

He hadn't left my mind since he left me physically. There wasn't much else I could do at this point. We hadn't exchanged numbers like two strangers after a night of passion and there was no _promise_ of anything. I could only hope that I'd see him, even if I wasn't sure for what.

Stretching and working out some kinks in my neck and shoulders, I decided for the first time in over half a day to close the program. Saving one last time, I exited out only to pull up an internet browser to check any incoming mail from students and staff. After about 10 answered e-mails from students, I came across a "No Subject" e-mail from an address I couldn't recall knowing. There was an attachment to the incoming e-mail. I sat staring at the screen, unsure of whether I should open it. Spam and viruses were more common than an actual legit message from anyone, so I didn't want to take chances.

Yet...

I stared at the address one more time.

I opened it and was rewarded with words I knew were from him.

_Since we've been personal, I felt this was only fair._

The attachment read, "Born of You." I blinked in astonishment. This was a short story, _his_ short story. My heart hammered away in excitement and anticipation as I clicked the link eagerly. It downloaded and opened, revealing a 12 paged, single spaced lay-out of words. My heart didn't let up as I read the first line, leaning into the laptop's screen.

"Born of this womb, we made a nameless, unknown creation." I read out-loud. It didn't take long for me to get lost in his world.

**.**

**.**

"I've been writing." I never thought such a sentence would cause such a stir around the table. Almost simultaneously, my father and mother's forks clanked against their plates.

"Oh that's great, honey." My mother exclaimed with enthusiasm, just as my father expressed his delight, "That's good to hear."

Alice remained silent, but there was a knowing twinkle in her eyes. She was intuitive and observant, so I was sure she knew the reason for this breakthrough.

"Are you considering...?" My father had no greater opportunity than this time to offer Aro's name.

"As a matter of fact," I placed my fork down silently, looking in my father's direction, "I have." The last few days I had been writing with a passion that I believed at dwindled months ago. It was _insane_ to think that a young man did this to me with a night of misguided passion. But I couldn't deny that it set a trigger. I had been thinking about our conversation at the Cafe and our last words exchanged before he left. Jacob somehow found the loophole in my rubric of living. I preached to live by a passion, to take risks and fear little, but I was restrained, took as little risks as possible and feared too much. He had somehow spotted that within 10 minutes of conversation. What else did he know about me that I didn't, now that he had spent a night with me - naked and fitted together like long, lost and forgotten puzzle pieces?

Reading the short story was an effort he made, a risk I'm sure he didn't feel the necessity to take before. He had given me a breath of his life, offered upon my request and I couldn't thank him enough for it. It was all I needed to try again - to write - now that I had the sudden inspiration to.

My father and mother shared looks of surprise, "So perhaps you two can meet and you can share some of the short fictions you completed. He is well aware you've won a few literary awards, but I'm sure he'd be interested in something unpublished, of course." I couldn't quite understand where they found pleasure in my works being publicly recognized. The chance of making an actual living from partial success wasn't likely.

"What brought this on?" My mother asked, clearly taken back by my sudden change from violent protesting the week before.

"I, uh," I looked in Alice's direction, only to be met with raised eyebrows and eyes of similar question, "I read a very touching short fiction I've never had the pleasure of reading before." I answered vaguely.

"Nice to know you're still reading new material." My father leaned forward, patting my hand in encouragement, "Sometimes a fresh look at art can change an artist's perspective, right?"

**.**

**.**

She tucked a strand of chocolate brown behind her ear, and leaned her head back in order to stare up at me with squinting eyes, "You seem different."

"It's been a trying month." I sighed, stepping closer to her in order to block the sunlight from her eyes, "You seem different as well." She did. Her hair wasn't awkwardly tied, but splayed over her shoulders in natural waves and she was now wearing a comfortable looking sundress and comfortable sandals. She looked fashionable and relaxed, "I can only guess that things are going well with Mike, the Nutritionist?" I asked, getting a reply of a deep, rose blush on her cheeks.

"Tell me all about him." I elbowed her arm gently.

"First, let's find a spot to eat."

We spotted a 50s diner I used to frequent a few years ago. Considering my sudden embracive nature with anything regarding the time before my muse-less year, I suggested we eat there. Bella gave a shrug and a smile and we were on our way. It had been a joke to meet at the spot we had our first date. Neither of us wanted to eat there, but the idea that we'd have a chance at a refresh with a new restaurant in knowing each other - like friends - we figured it was a good beginning.

Once inside, we were escorted to our seats, before not long after, we were approached by a fairly young waitress. We ordered our drinks - an iced tea for me and water with lemon for Bella - before she excused herself, allowing time for us to decide what we wanted.

"No, seriously, Edward." She scrutinized me through her long bangs, "I'm not your date anymore. You can tell me who the girl is." It was not my nature as a professor to be flustered and incapable of expressing myself through words, but sitting there before her, I found that perhaps this was another piece of my past that was ignited in me. I had always been a quiet, shy boy when I was younger.

"How'd you-" I stammered, feeling foolish and beside myself.

"Well, for one, you're not as you were when I first met you," She shrugged, "Now I could have easily left that to the aspect of our date and how uncomfortable it was initially, but it looks like someone turned on a light behind your eyes. I've only ever seen that done with a significant other or of course, an artist in the zone..." She watched me carefully, "Perhaps both?"

"Perhaps." I answered, knowing there was no possible way I could tell her about Jacob without her being mortified. The waitress appeared again with our drinks, before asking what we wanted. Bella ordered a BLT and I asked for a simple burger with bacon and a side of fries. With a lingering look in my direction, the waitress walked away. Bella noticed and snorted.

"What?"

She shook her head, "You are a catch and whoever is making you shine like that better be reciprocating the affections."

"Bella..."

"Edward," She used the same tone, "I've only known you a few weeks, but as intriguing and deep as you are, you wear your emotions on your sleeve and you aren't hard to read." It must have been so. Jacob seemed to know me without words spoken.

"Bella-" I started again, but she held up a hand as if requesting I didn't speak yet.

"You don't have to say anything about it. I just thought I offer some advice," I felt myself relax. For Alice's friend, she was nothing like the nosy, petite nuisance, "Take a chance. I've spoken with your sister enough to know that you keep yourself in life. You should try getting messy just this once, go with the flow." I couldn't help the amusement I felt at her advice. Bella didn't look much like the type that let herself go once in awhile, but I'm sure she knew quite more about me than I knew about her.

"I'll try."

She wrinkled her nose, "No. Do, or do not. There is no try." She said in a croaky voice, causing me to choke and cough up some of my iced tea. A romanticist with a sense of humor. I was starting to believe that Bella and I were going to have a remarkable friendship.

"I shouldn't be surprised that a drama teacher knows her movies." Bella gave me a bashful smile behind her straw just as the waitress approached us with our food. We enjoyed the rest of our brunch discussing what we were going to do for the summer break now that we had some time on our hands.

Later that night, feeling a heavy weight building in my chest after my hours with Bella, I sat at the screen with my program closed and my e-mail open. I needed to see him, but I was unsure what to say. Do I demand to see him under the guise of his grade for class or do I admit that he had been on my mind the last few days? I was unsure at this point what Jacob wanted. After all, this originally started out as a means of getting a better grade and now that he had it - considering his grade was perfect as he predicted - did he want to see me?

I sighed, hearing Bella's voice echo and weigh in on my brain.

Could I take a chance at this?

Hadn't I already?

Before I was processing just what I was doing, my fingers clicked and tapped along the keys, writing out my message.

_Would it be alright if we meet again? Perhaps for brunch at the Cafe? I would love to share another stimulating conversation._

_ -Edward A. Cullen_

I sent it before I could doubt myself, this time directly to his personal e-mail, rather through the school. I assumed he would be comfortable with this at least. I knew that if he hadn't been, he wouldn't have contacted me through that address at all. I let out a breath of fearful expectance, before opening the Word program again. With that task done, I was able to focus more on where I was taking this story.

**.**

**.**

_Why not your place, Professor?_

_ I'll see you tonight._

The hand that held the warm glass of tea trembled slightly, but not long enough to spill the warm liquid on my bottoms. I placed it down on the office desk and leaned back in the leather chair with a feeling of excitement and trepidation. He wanted to meet me _here_, where we...

My stomach churned, not with fear and nausea, but with a lustful need.

My morning was spent in a haze, mindlessly cleaning the house and answering some last e-mails from students. I had a light lunch before opening the work I was completing and losing myself to a world I once believed expired, but with a resurrecting breath from _inspiration,_ I was ready to bring it back from the dead.

Darkness fell quicker than I expected or anticipated and soon it was time again to eat. Assuming Jacob would be coming from work, exhausted and low on energy, I decided to cook a meal that would be hefty and fulfilling. I began with chopping potatoes and vegetables, before eventually pulling out the shredded steak from the fridge that I'd saved for dinner. My hands were busy again, working in a rhythm of automaticity - I let my mind wander to what would be in an hour or so. I wanted to know what was running through his mind and yet, I wanted the moment I lay eyes on him to be brief, so I could touch and smell all that I missed in these recent days. My chest strummed in exhilaration and my breath came out in pants at the thought of what else I could explore tonight.

But I couldn't assume such an exchange would occur again. I had merely requested his company, nothing more.

I assembled all the ingredients of the dinner into the crock pot by the stove, before adding water, Worcestershire sauce and spices and setting the pot for an hour. I used whatever time was left to me, starting the rice pot as well and cleaning the last of my papers and notes from writing. I hopped into the shower afterwards for a quick wash, losing myself in what could come from this night.

**.**

**.**

I jumped at the unfamiliar sound. The only guest I had ever had these days were Alice and she never used the instrument before. Rushing into a pair of bottoms and running the towel through my wet locks, I walked in the direction of the front door. The smell of beef and cooked potatoes wafted through from the kitchen. I closed my eyes, inhaling the comforting scent and briefly thanking my mother for offering me the ingredients to her special beef stew.

I padded my way across the wood floors to the door and opened it. I was greeted with a smirking dark-skinned man in the usual casual attire. I hadn't even noticed the warm air that accompanied him.

"You gonna let me in, Professor?" He asked, with a smile in his twinkling eyes.

"Oh," With a shake of my head, I allowed him room inside. He brushed past me, our shoulders touching before he leaned over and inhaled deeply.

"Did you plan for me to see you like this?" He asked. He stood so close, warming me with his body heat. I turned to answer and silently gasped, seeing the depths of his brown eyes. He was beautiful even as he dissected me with his words then.

"I was cooking and I-" I stammered. Now that he said the words, I had to rethink my actions. Had I really showered last minute in hopes to get an arousing reaction from him? Was it a subconscious choice I made? As attracted to him as I was, I never actually thought about him catching me in the shower, but perhaps I didn't need to. Jacob seemed capable of reading my desire for him easier than I could. In fact, I was sure everyone else could better than I was able to.

"Mmm, what is that I smell?" He looked over his shoulder at me, "You made dinner for me?" I bit my lip, nodding. That wasn't a subconscious effort on my part. I really wanted him comfortable, considering he possibly was tired and winding down from a day of working, "It smells delicious." He winked.

"I'll get dressed." I offered, walking past him. I started, feeling his fingers wrap around my wrist.

"Mmm, no, I like you like that." I frowned, feeling a bit under dressed. He was in a vintage t-shirt and dark jeans, where as I was in thin, cotton bottoms, my hair in wet clumps on my face.

"It wouldn't be appropriate." I spoke quietly. He raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"Professor, I know you wanted to talk with me, but you'd be fooling yourself if you didn't think about what we'd be doing afterwards." His fingers slid down my wrist until they were holding my hand, "Let's consider this easier access for me later on."

"Jacob, I don't want you to think this is just another sexual encounter. I do intend to enjoy my time with you."

He used his connection to me, to pull my body against his. My bare chest collided with his shirt. He hummed in satisfaction, turning his head, so his breath fanned along my shoulder and neck, "I guarantee you will." He whispered huskily in my ear. I couldn't control the low moan that emitted from my chest. He chuckled, "Let's eat?"

I nodded, attempting to pull away, but his hand never released me. I didn't argue, instead walking him to the kitchen, where I requested he get the plates and utensils as I opened the pressure cooker and got the rice. Minutes later, we were settling down at the table, both with glasses filled with our choice of drink. I waited for Jacob to take the first bite. He did, smiling in delight as he chewed.

"A renaissance man." He commented, "Can you play the piano and sword fence too?" He asked. Even through his teasing manner, I could tell that he was impressed with the meal.

"Actually," I spoke up after swallowing a bite of my own, "I was quite a pianist when I was school."

"Why did you stop?"

I shrugged, "The same reason I stopped writing." He didn't reply, but I could tell he was tempted to. Instead, he continued eating, allowing a few moans to escape his lips every now and then. He was all ease and grace, finishing the last of what was on his plate, before putting down his fork, so he could lean back and let the meal settle in.

"You can help yourself to seconds." I offered.

"That was a lot to take in. I'm not sure I have room for anymore, but it was enjoyable nonetheless." He answered with a hearty burp. There was pride swelling in me, but instead of thinking on it, I finished the last on my plate. Jacob stood up, offering to clean up, but I waved my hand, dismissing his action. He was a guest. I told him to meet me in the living room as I placed the plates and glasses in the sink. I met him moments later in the room behind the kitchen. He was on the sofa, a leg stretched out on the cushions, shoes off and neatly cast aside under the coffee table. He motioned for me to sit next to him. I was hesitant. The only room on the couch was between his legs.

"Jacob..." I protested.

Professor, we're artists of words and we don't entertain in pretenses."

"Some of the best artists do." I argued.

"Only those who choose to live in the worlds they create." He replied without a second of hesitation. I was blown away at how easy we could fall into a banter. A student - I reminded myself - that I connected with easier than any date I've ever had in the past. There was no denying that he was right. Finally letting the last of my protest fall away, I walked over and settled between his legs. He felt...perfect. His arm wrapped around my waist, before he pulled me against his chest. He hummed in appreciation, pressing his lips against my neck. I sighed, tilting my head and allowing him access.

Using that moment of intimate touching, I spoke up, "Your short story was unnerving and yet, I couldn't stop reading." I felt his chest vibrate under my back as he chuckled, "It was so _visceral_. When did you write it?"

"A few days ago."

"Really?" I exclaimed in surprise, "I thought you would have sent me something you've worked on earlier, but something so recently..." I felt a twinge of excitement grow in me, "Thank you for trusting me with it."

"It was only fair. I wrote it the moment I got home from your house."

"You had work..." I stated the obvious.

"I couldn't turn my mind off." God, how much I related to that feeling.

"I didn't stop until I was done."

I blinked, recapping on the short story, "The protagonist was enraptured with the stranger so much. It was if he known the individual all his life, so much so, he was-"

"Born from him." Jacob answered, stroking the strands of hair at the nape of my neck.

"Have you ever felt that way before?" I asked, knowing that there was some truth to the words spoken. The words invested so much emotion and effort to express exactly where the protagonist was coming from. They were convincing and intimidating. Even as someone who written most of his life, I was never able to capture and harness words as he had.

"Are you trying to pick at my mind, Professor?" He asked, allowing the tips of his finger to stroke my sensitive flesh.

"I don't mean to." I confessed, "I'm just amazed at how you well you write. The writing was so tangible that it was nearly corporeal in form."

"That's quite a compliment, Professor."

"Edward." I said, "You can call me Edward, Jacob."

He was silent for a second, his fingers still active against my flesh, "Okay...Edward." I shuddered at the way he said my name, breathless and husky. Pressing a knuckle under my chin, he directed my head towards him. I angled my head, pulling away just far enough to stare at him. He leaned towards me, pressing into my personal bubble and popping it just as he caressed my lips with his own. He groaned, aggressively bucking his hip under me, before probing my lips with his tongue. I granted his entry, enjoying the way he skillfully explored my mouth. It was a perfect distraction, because just then I felt his hand cupping me through my bottoms. I shifted my body, hoping to get some form of contact with him.

"Jacob," I panted against his lips. There was no way I could deny myself his touch, not when he seemed to know _everything_ I wanted when his hand was on my body. The world and its consequences melted away as they usually did. We relished our close contact, kissing with a feverish need. His hands didn't let up. With an annoyed grunt, Jacob pulled away from our kiss.

"Fuck, I need to touch you, baby." His leg moved at my hip, just as he made an effort to get up off the sofa. I watched in disappointment, when he was on his feet. I wanted to ask where he was going or what he was doing, but I just couldn't bring myself to open my mouth when I saw the very impressive bulge in his jeans. He surprised me by lowering himself to his knees, right between my thighs.

"I've been meaning to do this since the first time I saw you." I watched as his eyes darkened with a hazy want.

"What did you-" I gasped when he easily tugged on the elastic of my bottoms and briefs, lifting it and allowing it to hook under my engorged flesh.

"I never had an opportunity to enjoy you…_Edward_." He said my name with that deep, smooth voice and I moaned in blissful joy at how he could transition so naturally from addressing me as an authority to that of a possible lover. My legs shook evidently. He noticed, putting a hand on my thigh, he gently massaged, giving me a small smile. His other hand ran up my warm hardness, stroking it with the same ease as the hand assuring me it was okay.

"You don't have to." I pressed the back of my hand against his cheek.

"Do you want me to?" He asked.

"If you want to."

"But do _you_ want me to, Edward." He asked, hand still stroking me.

"I want to feel you." Was all I really could say, "I'll give you whatever you want in return."

"I want to taste you." And with that, he took the flared head of my member between his lips, giving it a generous kiss. He watched me with eyes the color of thick smoke before suckling me deeper into his throat. I couldn't maintain self-control, grinding my hips along with his slow rhythm and shaking uncontrollable. The electric shock was back and overwhelmingly tantalizing.

"God." I praised, pressing a palm on the curve on his shoulder, before sliding along to his upper back. He hummed in encouragement causing a jolt to run up my spine. I responded accordingly, only to see a smile curve on his stretched lips. Wrapping a hand around the base of me, he worked an expert pace and skill with both mouth and grip until I was incapable of even exclaiming my random choice of words. The build up was already having an effect. My lower abdomen had tightened to its limit and my muscles were locked in preparation for the release.

"I'm close." I panted in warning. He removed his hand, allowing his mouth to dominate in control and moved his fingers the tender sac below what was so well occupied, "Ungh, oh-" I nearly yelped, enjoying the simultaneous sensations. My eyes rolled back and my hips arched into his mouth, just as euphoria emitted in protein liquid.

He didn't pull away, rather suckled hungrily and swallowed. I was able to catch his Adam's apple bobbing enthusiastically as the high was ebbing. The sight of him tasting me threw me into a near frenzy. He sat back on his heels and watched me in interest, "I have quite a view from here."

"Thank you, Jacob." I whispered, still breathless from being the receiver to such a rewarding favor, "I'd want to-" I leaned forward slightly, tugging on the hem of his shirt. He watched me curiously, cocking his head as if he couldn't believe what I had said.

"You seriously would?" The left side of his lip, curled into a smirk, "I'm having a lot of firsts with you." He shook his head slowly, confusing me with his surprise.

"No one ever..?" I really couldn't speak the words aloud.

"I've had teachers who'd fucked me, some even kissed me, but none ever sucked my dick."

I couldn't believe there had been more than one and even _worse_, had he expected me to be the exact way? My hand found it's way to his cheek, "Jacob, I don't know what monsters would make you do such things, but please understand this isn't about me wanting anything from you. If you'll willing to give, so am I."

He looked so beautiful taking in my words, "Do you want me, Edward?"

"Yes. I've been able to overlook rules just so I could see you. I wouldn't take risks like this if it wasn't worth it."

"So," He spoke as if an idea struck him, "Would you let me fuck you?" I felt my eyes widen at the offer. I had thought about it, but wasn't sure how such a deed would happen and who would top the other. The act was intimidating, but in no way did it disgust or turn me off to any farther explorations with him. In fact, the current in my body intensified at the thought. Would our physical connection be more intense than what we had last night?

"I wouldn't be opposed to it." I stated honestly. I had come to a conclusion. I desired his company and his touch and I truly had a need to prove to him he was worth it and I could make it so by making him the authority, giving him dominance, making him the professor, "Teach me what you can do to my body." I requested.

For the second time that week, I was escorting him to my room. He helped me out of my bottoms and I sat on the bed, watching with hungry eyes as he eased himself out of his shirt. I felt like a rookie, taking in the grace and nonchalance he had about undressing. He caught me watching, sending a wink my way, before digging in his pockets, pulling out a wallet from his left cheek pocket, a cell phone from the right one, and a condom and small bottle of lubricant from the right front pocket. He explained, "That e-mail was a booty-call waiting to happen."

"I didn't mean for it to be that." In no way did I just want him physically. It was my intention to speak with Jacob first, even if I wanted more. He tossed the contents from his pocket onto my night-stand, all while watching me carefully.

"This is your first time." He didn't have to ask, it was apparent by my demeanor and lacking confidence in what I was doing, "If this is what you want-'

"It is."

He didn't hide the relieved smile that graced his face, "I'll go slow." Straddling my legs, he fell against the bed with me, starting the activity with short, open mouthed kisses. His hands blindly roamed my naked body as I writhed against him. I wasn't enjoying the friction of his jeans against my reawakening arousal.

"Your jeans, Jacob." I said between kisses. He ignored my pleads, moving his mouth to my check, the dip in my neck, my nipples, my navel. I gasped and whined, expecting a second round of what I had in the living room, but he backed away until he was on his feet again. His eyes never left mine as he unbuttoned and unzipped before pulling his denim down his hip. My mouth gaped at the deep V in his hips and the black trail of hair leading to a mouth watering sight.

"Come here, Jacob." I begged, but he was achingly slow at undressing. My body, already burning and zapping in need, shifted and continued to grind against the soft sheets. He finally complied with my wishes, climbing back over me, pressing his fever warm lips against mine in an extended, eager kiss. He was pulling away once again, but this time, keeping part of his weight and heat on me, he reached for the night-stand, taking both the condom and lube.

"As a Professor, I'm sure you know what comes next." He said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. I was aware of the sexual act, just without experience.

"I am." I nodded, licking my swollen lips.

"On your stomach, Professor." He ordered. My body couldn't function as I was momentarily stunned with the order and the name and just how inviting the entire phrase sounded in my ears. He waited with arched brows until I was scrambling on my stomach. With a light chuckle, he clicked open the lube and leaned back against me. I groaned at the sensation of his slick member against my lower back, "Be patient." He whispered. I tried to use his advice and allow my body to relax and enjoy what he was preparing me for, "Get on your knees for me, and widen your stance." He moved away, giving me room to do as I was told. Resting on just my elbows and knees, I waited for more directions. I yelped when his teeth latched on my round flesh.

"Mmm." He kissed the assaulted skin and continued nipping and kissing exposed areas of my body I was sure no human would ever go. I felt vulnerable and open, yet I took the submission in stride, waiting for the expected and doing as I was told. The number of year gap between me and Jacob wasn't wide, but there was generally a difference enough in age for one to establish authority over the other. Jacob, still young, impulsive, but was very much calculated. He knew what was right in comparison to what he wanted, even if he took risks to expose himself. Laying before him, I felt like the inexperienced 20 year old, learning from the seasoned master. I didn't know much about his history - a foolish prelude to a sexual experience - yet I was more than sure he had experience with men and I was more than willing to let him lead.

I gasped when the cold, slick wetness pressed along the line of separated flesh and I just about bit my tongue when the intruder of one digit pressed in me. Jacob's lips pressed against the sacrum of my spine as he uttered encouraging words to relax me. His finger moved in and out in a slow enough pace for me to adjust to the discomfort. He twisted and curved the digit, pressing against something that caused my back to arch just as I cried out. I had no doubt in my mind that he had found my prostate. He added another finger, working my insides, performing the motion of a scissor opening and closing, the pressure extracting a jolt of pleasure from my gland before he started a steady rhythm.

"Does this feel good?" He asked breathlessly behind me. I whimpered, nodding my head, unable to coherently piece together the right phrase to express this new arousing shock of sensations running its course through my body, from spine to limbs.

I was tingling all over.

"Think you can handle my cock?" He teased, tonguing the shell of my ear. I wasn't sure how to answer that. This was only two fingers and I had a chance to really look at his engorged appendage. It was thicker than my own.

He seemed satisfied with my body's relaxed state, pulling two slicked fingers out of me. I whined, feeling suddenly empty and without his heat. Looking over my shoulder, I was intrigued, witnessing him tearing a condom before taking the latex out, pinching the end and rolling in along his length. It was surreal, knowing that in just a few seconds I'd feel that connection, I'd buckle under his weight and under the pleasure. It was surreal, but it was all I could think about and I didn't want it, I _needed_ it. I needed the risk, the touch, his voice. I needed the passion to find bits of myself I had lost in the past. I needed the connection to know there was still a drive in me, a chance to go on as I always dreamed. I needed his touch to set me free. But most of all, I needed to know depths of his mind when he was in me.

Moving behind me, Jacob's two hands wrapped around my lower waist, keeping me in place before leaning his weight to mine, pecking along my spine, following a trail up to my lips, where we shared a emotionally heightened kiss. It continued and deepened, even when I felt the head of his length pressing into me, waiting for me to relax and accept. And still it commenced when he was fully seated in me. Only when I had groaned in need of his movement, did he pull away from the kiss.

"Jacob, please." I begged.

"Yes, Professor."

**.**

**.**

There was a wrinkle between his brows and his lips pouted slightly. I asked him what he was thinking without saying words. Pressing my thumb against the pinched skin between his eyes, he relaxed, sighing contently, moving my hand away from his eyebrows and to his lips. It was the first _true_ intimate act he expressed other than the long, expressive kiss we had before we reached climax together, "I'm saving money." He spoke softly.

"What do you mean?"

"You asked me why I was working so hard when I had the grants for school and benefits for my father. I've been saving part of the money. I'm still considering changing my major and I know that even if I succeed in publishing a few works, it won't mean I'll be immediately successful."

My fingers, still against the curve of his bottom lip, trailed the warm flesh as he spoke. He was still perspiring from the physical exertion 15 minutes before and there was a glow about his russet skin, but other than that, he looked relaxed and nonchalant as usual, "If there was that lingering doubt, don't you believe you should at least try, Jacob? You're still young."

"So are you." He replied, looking directly at me, "Practice what you preach, Professor."

"Actually," I angled my head a bit higher, so our eye contact was more even, "My father is scheduling a meeting with a publisher he knows." At that, Jacob's eyebrows shot up, "Reading your story, Jacob..." I trailed off.

He laughed, causing my head to bob along with his chest, "It really had you wound, huh?"

"Talking to you had me thinking about at least trying. I owe it to myself and you owe it to yourself as well."

Our slick, naked bodies moved in unison as we positioned ourselves closer together. I kissed him, thanking his words and his touch for guiding me to this understanding. Such an odd turn of events from such an unsuspecting person. I knew he had to have thought this before. I doubt he expected more the day he came into my office, lowering himself to his knees for a service exchange.

Groaning, Jacob pressed his nose against the curve of my neck as I lay exhausted in his arms, "Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Show me what you're writing."

**.**

**.**

"Thank you again, Edward." Aro stood, giving me a firm handshake, "I'll be in touch in a few days."

"No, thank you, Aro. You'll be doing me a huge favor." I really appreciated his open mind and patience. It was hard enough meeting with him and building a comfortable relationship to trust a new set of eyes with my work, but with this favor, I had new respect for my father's friend. With a simple wave and smile, I turned, leaving his office, taking the elevator down to the garage floor. Once I was on the journey to my car, I pulled out my cell phone, pressing #3 on the speed dial.

The morning air was cooler, yet still had the lasting summer breeze. September was proving so far to be as easy going as August and I had Jacob and surprisingly my father's advice to thank for that. I already had spoken with the Department of English and informed them that I would be teaching no courses the next semester and I had finally finished the short story I had started years before but never found the heart to finish. Jacob was the first to read through it. He would never say, but he couldn't stop smiling afterwards.

"Professor?" The deep voice was a rumble, riddled with the effects of sleep.

"I know you told me not to." I started, knowing that would have his full attention.

"Edward," He warned. My first meeting with Aro had gone well, better than I expected. In fact, I was comfortable enough after a few tough conversations to show him my work and on this particular day, after a long _grueling_ argument with Jacob, I figured, sharing some works of Jacob's could open some doors for him.

"Don't worry." I assured him, "I just wanted his advice. I said that you were a student looking to publish your works and I was merely using him for a few pointers. He said he'd contact me in a few days and let me know what would be a best direction for you.

Jacob sighed. I knew he wouldn't argue. He trusted me more with his writing than anyone else, "What stories did you offer him."

" 'Born of You', 'Passion in Colors' and 'Road Without Him'." I counted on my fingers, though I knew he couldn't see me.

"Edward." Jacob whined uncharacteristically.

"Should I have given him 'Pleasure Seekers.'?" I asked, "Even for Aro, I thought that was a little edgy. He's an open minded man, but I wanted him to focus more on your technique and diction rather than the message this time around." I informed. I was already by the car, unlocking the doors with the button on my keychain, before getting inside.

"'Born of You' was for your eyes only, Edward." Jacob spoke quietly. I assumed he was speaking in the company of his father. We both had chosen to keep our relationship -or something like it - disclosed. Sadly, I was even forbidden to discuss it with Bella, whom over time became quite a close friend. Considering I was still teaching at the University, we would have to wait. Granted, we had given each other physical space and refrained on sexual advances, we labeled what we had was a fair step higher than any typical student/teacher relationship.

"You don't want that published? Jacob, that was some of the most seducing works I've ever read."

"It was only meant to seduce you." He replied evenly. I sat in the car, phone pressed to my ear in complete silence. Surely he didn't mean...

"Jacob," I spoke quietly as if in fear of being overheard, "Did you write that for me?"

"For a Professor, you're not very clever." He teased, "I believed you described it as being _visceral_. I would assume because it was applicable to our situation and very real."

"Are you saying I was the _stranger_."

"Well, a good story needs some mystique to it." He replied, amusement evident in his tone.

"I didn't know.." I shook my head, "I'm flattered, Jacob."

"So lunch today?" Jacob changed the topic. He wasn't the type to linger on the sentimental too long.

"Yes. After my American Literature class, I'll be free. I was thinking the Cafe, since it's close to my class."

"Not worried about being seen this time?" Jacob asked, surprised.

"Bring some of your notes for your next class. We can work on that together while we eat." I covered, "No one will suspect anything."

"Sounds convincing."

"See you at 12:30."

"Sure, sure."

"And Jacob?"

"Yes?"

"_You can't expect proficiency without being presentable at a timely fashion_." I repeated the words from our very first lunch, "Be on time."

"Yes, Professor."

**.**

**.**

******AN: Reviews are welcome of course. Thanks so much for reading, guys!**


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